Revenge
by GroovyKat
Summary: Princess can't believe that Mark let him go free. The Spectran Commander held her captive for three days -- and Mark just let him go?
1. Chapter 1

**REVENGE**

Yet another of the many stories to follow the Fierce Flowers episode. There are so many possibilities …

I think this is my second go at it. This is a darker tale. It deals with the aftermath of torture and rape. No, there aren't any explicit details here, but to be safe I'll give it a mature rating.

Princess wants her own "closure" to the abduction… She isn't a weak girl so don't expect to see her sobbing and wallowing in her own misery. She's tougher than that.

Disclaimer: Say it with me … Chorus: I don't own the birdies. And now the boys: I don't own the birds … birds birds birds…

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REVENGE

1 re·venge

Pronunciation: \ri-venj\

Function: _transitive verb_

Inflected Form(s): re·venged; re·veng·ing

Etymology:

Middle English, from Anglo-French _revenger, revengier,_ from _re-_ + _venger_ to avenge.

Date:

14th century

1 **:** to avenge (as oneself) usually by retaliating in kind or degree

2 **:** to inflict injury in return for _revenge_ an insult

— re·veng·er _noun_

_Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary_

She found it incredibly odd that Chief Anderson had this particular dictionary reference transposed onto a large poster and displayed prominently in the debriefing room at Centre Neptune. Revenge was something he claimed to abhor. He warned that it was an agenda more dangerous than complacency, yet here it was, behind his head, for all present to see.

While she had barely noticed the poster in the years previous during any mission briefing or debriefing, today she couldn't help but feel absolutely drawn to it. Her mind's eye carefully etched every line of every letter into her subconscious. It almost sing-songed into her brain, the whistful rhythms ensuring the words were memorized like a corny advertisement jingle.

Her focus on the poster was such, that she really didn't take too much heed to the discussion surrounding her. When prompted for a comment from her superiors and team, she made do with little more than an absent-sounding sigh that had the interpretive qualities to suit whatever response they needed.

One statement, or admission, she did hear was one by her Commander.

"Because of the relationship between Spectran Commander and the Federal Investigative Bureau, I had no choice but to let he and his squad go."

She allowed her eyes to rise darkly to him and let out a short and hard breath through her nose in disgust.

_No choice indeed. _Her mind responded. _What a crock. There is always a choice, but _you_ were too gutless to follow through with it._

She heard a snort from her right side – Jason – that seemed to agree with her mind's disagreement, and let her eyes sweep in his direction. She was somewhat surprised to find that he didn't voice his thoughts. She surmised that he opted to remain silent only to get them all out of there quickly.

She didn't particularly feel the need to leave the debriefing room just yet. She knew what was on her plate once it was all done. She had orders to visit the medical wing, and then attend an hour-long session with the base shrink.

A session with the shrink was completely unnecessary, she felt. No, what would be far more therapeutic would be an hour alone with Mark in any part of the wing that housed anything sharp and lethal that she could use to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Mad. Now that would be an extremely appropriate dictionary definition to add to the poster beside the one her eyes were currently locked on. And she _was_ mad. No, mad was a gentle misnomer for her current emotion. She was irrationally pissed off, hurt, and betrayed.

How could he? How could her Commanding Officer, her friend, the one who claimed to have "affection" for her do this to her? Giving the order to kill her was one thing – an understandable thing – but to let the man who had abducted her, tortured her, raped her, and ordered an absolutely medieval demise upon her, to go free – because of a god-damned deal with the FBI – That was completely unforgivable!

Okay he didn't know the full extent of her three-days in Spectran Hell, but that was beside the point. He should have stuck up for her and defended her honour …

Her eyes slid toward Jason, who was snarling over the tip of a toothpick as he listened to proceedings.

…And so should have Jason.

"Princess?" Mark's voice. She felt it rip into her with about as much gentleness as a chainsaw. The sensation caused her to draw in a harsh breath and shudder.

Her response scraped through her teeth. "What?"

His brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes to take an evaluating look at her. "I need your input."

Her green eyes darkened as she raised them to his. "I've nothing to add."

"I'm sure you do," he breathed softly in response. "You were with them for three days. You must have seen and heard information that may be helpful to this and future missions."

Her voice was uncharacteristically harsh as she cleared her throat and shook her head. "Just what, exactly, do you think my time with them entailed? Was I merely a visitor? A guest to their establishment, invited to learn and play?" She inhaled sharply. "Was it merely a play-date set to…"

"Princess, that's enough," Anderson warned softly, his voice void of aggression. "Mark was just asking if you were able to overhear anything while you were in captivity. We are all familiar with Zoltar's penchant for making sure he tells his captives everything before he attempts to murder them."

She rolled her head to the Project Chief and softened her gaze. "I did not see, nor hear, Zoltar at all during my captivity, Chief." She dropped her hands into her lap and winced at the sting of bruising inside her thighs. "I'm sorry I didn't have the focus to eavesdrop on any discussions."

"That's okay," Mark whispered gently, reassuringly, as he set his hand on her shoulder. "I understand."

Her breath flew into her with a deep gulp and she immediately stood and leapt away from his touch. "Don't touch me. Just don't," she demanded hotly as she rubbed at her shoulder. She took a moment to look at the other members present in the room and saw nothing but complete shock and confusion.

"Princess," Mark said softly, his voice tinged with confusion. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to…"

"What, Mark?" She interrupted angrily as she backtracked toward the door. "Make me feel better? You think you can pet me like a little child and say "everything will be alright?" and it will be?"

"Uh."

Anderson's brow flicked high. "Princess, sit down."

She shook her head and hugged herself. "No."

"That's not a request."

She sucked on her teeth and released a shuddering breath. She spoke quietly when her words finally came. "Then cite me for insubordination. I don't particularly feel the need to have to sit here and listen to all this. I was captured, presumed dead, tortured, assaulted and had an attempt made on my life. There isn't much more I can offer to the discussion."

"Debriefing is a team-exercise, Princess." Anderson used his whole hand to point to her vacated seat. "I want you to tell us everything about the past three days. Perhaps your team and I can see something that you are currently unable to."

Her shoulders slumped and she found herself staring at him in total disbelief. "My input will take approximately thirty seconds, chief." She refused to take a seat; instead she gripped hard on the backrest of the chair and pushed it into the table. "Day 1. I was in a flower. Day 2. I was taken to the underground complex by several guards in a black Denali and then was thrown into a damp room with concrete walls and floor – no lighting." She inhaled to continue. "Day 2 also saw the introduction to the Spectran Commander that Mark so politely set free." Her gaze shifted for a moment to her Commander before she let it sweep back to Anderson. "Day 2 also marked the beginning of the torture to find out who I was and how I survived the flower. Torture included whipping, choking, punches to the stomach and back…"

"Princess, I think that's…"

She raised her hand to Anderson. "Why no. No. I'll tell you everything seeing as it is so essential to the debriefing process." She caught stunned and sympathetic stares from her team out of her peripheral vision, but ignored them to continue. "After my identity had been confirmed via facial recognition programs inside their facility the true torture began. This, for the record, is still all day 2."

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Prin, this isn't …"

She ignored him. "The torture shifted from purely physical to emotional _and _physical. While I was shown an image of Mark dumping the fuel in his jet over the flowers and the Phoenix firing a bird missile at them, I was held down by three guards as the Commander forced himself on me…" She hiccupped as she heard Jason's chair violently scrape along the floor, then crash as he tossed it to one side. She continued when she heard him swear loudly, punch at the wall and then storm out of the room. "I had to endure the laughs and taunts about how you had all failed while I was being assaulted."

There was a low growl from Tiny and a whimper of something she couldn't recognize from her Commander, but Anderson listened and maintained an impassive slouch in his chair. "Princess. I think that's about enough."

"Oh no," she countered defiantly. "You wanted a full debriefing. You told me to tell you all about it so you could see something I couldn't. So please, let me continue."

"That's not necessary."

"Oh it gets better," she practically sang. "After this Commander decided to have his way with the G-Force Swan, he decided to evacuate his bladder on me and give me one last kick before he ordered me thrown back into the room to be blasted with a firehose." Her voice shuddered as if laughing. "And let me tell you, 450psi on naked skin isn't a pleasant experience."

She waited a heartbeat for Anderson to interject once more, but he maintained a stare at her and sat in a light slouch in his chair. From her position it didn't seem like he cared at all about her torture, from the perspective of the men seated around her and the vein bulging at his temple it was obvious she was shaking him badly.

She continued, more for her own release than to further upset them. "After I was _cleaned_ I was redressed, drugged, and then put in the coffin the boys found me in." She looked across at Mark, whose expression was one of regret and pain. "The rest, I am sure, you remember."

His response was a heavy gulp.

She just offered him a disgusted look and pushed herself out of her slouch off the back of her chair. "If that will be all, I really want to just go and take a shower."

He gave her a nod. "You're dismissed."

She pursed her lips and hugged herself as she walked out of the door, surprised that she wasn't crying – or even close to it. The revelation in the debriefing room was more of a release than a pained recollection of events. It allowed her to make sure that Mark knew exactly what he had done and …

… and, oh, was she still livid. She honestly couldn't believe he'd let the Spectran Commander go free. How insensitive! How absolutely careless! How … How …

"Princess?"

She froze at the sound of his voice behind her. She didn't turn around to look at him, instead she turned her head to one side as if speaking over her shoulder at him. "What?"

Mark winced at the venom n her voice. She hated him he could feel it. He couldn't blame her though. "Prin, I'm so sorry."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't bother, Mark," she breathed as she took a step away from him. "I really don't want to hear it."

"But I need you to know …"

She stopped her walk and set her hands on her hips to laugh … loud. "You mean you need to make yourself feel better." She twisted her body to actually look at him. "Go right ahead, then, Commander. If it will ease your conscience to hear me tell you I forgive you, then go right ahead and make your apologies."

His head tipped to one side in complete defeat and sympathy for her. "If I had only known." He tried to reach out for her by setting his hand on her arm. "Princess, is there anything I can do to make it right?"

Princess looked down at his hand with little more than a flinch. She watched the fingers grip and release her arm then slide up to her shoulder, then looked up at him as he took a step closer to her.

"Princess, please?"

Her eye twitched and breath hitched. Before her brain could filter the command to her body she pulled away, growled, then drew back her arm and launched her fist toward his face.

"Get away from me!" She yelled as her fist struck his cheek and sent him stumbling backward with a look of complete bewilderment.

Mark didn't launch back at her, nor did he ask her why. Instead, he straightened himself and then watched her frown and attempt to shake out the pain of freshly bruised knuckles. It was now that he saw the extent to which the Spectran capture had affected her. Physically she looked a mess. Her frame showed the signs of weight lost during her ordeal. Her hair's luster had diminished, as did her spark. Bruises were finally making their appearance.

He didn't dare look down below her waist. He didn't want to see evidence … there.

Princess closed her fist and brought it to her mouth to give it a healing kiss. She didn't say a word, not even to offer apology for striking him. Mark honestly didn't feel that she owed him one.

"Princess," he began softly as he rubbed at his cheek. "I deserved that…"

"Don't," she whispered as her eyes finally rose to look at him in the face. "Because, trust me, I really want to do that again."

"If it'll make you feel better, Princess, do it."

She clenched her fist and curled her lip. With a shake of her head she let out a long huff. "Not if it'd make you feel better. I'd rather hang on to it."

"Let me make it right."

She pursed her lips tightly and shook her head. "You can't, Mark. You had him and you let him go."

"I didn't have the choice. We still don't outrank the FBI and the orders are from them."

"There's always a choice – and there's always an excuse." You turned from him. "You had to know what happened while I was with them, but you ignored it to …"

"I had no choice!" He affirmed in frustration. "I had to let him go."

"And if it was you who was violated by him," she replied quietly, "would you be so quick to let him go?" When he didn't answer she let out a long breath and walked away. "I didn't think so."

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Three hours and two showers later Princess was still unable to separate herself from the mess at the Neptune compound. None of the team had tried to contact her in this time, not even Keyop, who had returned home 45 minutes and 15 seconds ago. She heard him unlock the front door and walk straight to his room without even stopping for a second at her door to check in on her.

That was fine with her. She didn't want to have to try to explain herself or the situation to him. She knew he was old enough to understand the logistics behind the rape and torture, but she really wasn't sure he was quite wise enough to hear the emotional side of it. So long as she pretended she was fine and getting through it , he wouldn't feel compelled to understand it.

Hell, she barely understood it herself. Rape was simply something that didn't fit in her view of war. Honestly, what did it achieve? The Spectrans ultimately lost the battle, and her team still sabotaged what should have been a flawless attack on the female populous. Aside from the cheap thrill the head-goon got from his five minutes of … wham-bam and thank you maam … it had proved to be fairly inconsequential to the actual assignment at hand.

But he got away.

Mark, curse him. Why did he have to lower himself to allowing her captor to go free? It wasn't like the FBI could actually use any information to their advantage. G-Force would have to be the ones to go into the fray, anyhow. Zoltar never used the same attack, and he never used the same teams.

It made no sense.

What, really, was the agenda of the Federal G-Men?

She kissed the air and pulled her pillow tighter into her chest as she considered it.

The whole torture and rape thing was not a Spectran trait. She'd been abducted and held captive many times. Aside from weird confinements and taunts from Zoltar, she'd actually never been hurt or threatened in this manner. No. This wasn't a Spectran thing. This was an Earth thing. Zoltar was an ass, as were his goons, but he was never so low as to resort to these kinds of tactics. Hell. For all Zoltar knew, she was married to Mark and/or shagging Jason and either one of them would valiantly crash the next party to defend her honour.

She climbed off the bed and held her pillow to her belly as she lightly paced the shag carpeting of her bedroom.

Why would the FBI be interested in this Commander, when they've shown no interest in any Commanders beforehand?

She chewed on her thumbnail and cast her eyes toward the computer.

Maybe it was time to do some digging and find out.


	2. Chapter 2

Just a filler chapter…

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Princess finally understood what it was that drove Jason like he did. There was something mildly energizing about calling upon vengeance to help accomplish a task. Even as she crossed into her fourth day with no sleep she found herself wide-eyed and conscious enough to completely concentrate on her task.

Sure there were vast amounts of coffee and Guarana chewing gum involved, but the sheer push from deep inside her belly made sure that there were no slips in the fingers on her keyboard or moments of distraction from thoughts of anything besides … well besides the hacking into the FBI database.

She popped a seventh piece of gum into her mouth and stretched the wad with her tongue as she let her eyes sweep between the three monitors she had set up at her desk. To her right she had the AFIS computer program searching its database for a match to the print she'd lifted from her belt. It was his -- this she knew for a fact. While she was accosted and held down by five men, he was the only one who actually tugged off her belt. He was also the one who threw it back at her when he demanded she redress. She had the match parameters set high, seeking a 10-point match, rather than the forensically accepted 6 to 8 point. She didn't want to have to worry about several almost-matches. This would take much longer to work through the system, but she had a perfect full print, so the wait would be worth it. So far she'd had several hits from open cases, but nothing to give an identity of the owner.

The middle monitor was displaying a black screen with green code. It wasn't scrolling through with the typical speed Princess might have used, but with she scanning through three different programs, this was more manageable. The monitor to her left was hooked up to the Federation systems. Nearly 24 hours ago she had couriered a couple of small biological samples for analysis. She was waiting for the forensic teams at Neptune to upload the results for her.

It never occurred to her that Anderson had yet to phone her on it. Whenever she accessed the Federation databases from her own personal computer, her lines were immediately flagged and her security access limited. This particular access was hiccup free with no real need for sneaky tactics to find what she needed. Anderson must have known she would try this – she had done so previously after a particularly emotionally draining mission – so he was giving her the leeway knowing she'd never move beyond the investigative process.

Sometimes she just needed to know. She wasn't necessarily the vindictive and vengeful type, so to act on the information she found was improbable in the eyes of the Federation Security chief. It was also somewhat improbably to she, too, but she wanted to know why this guy was so important that Mark wouldn't even bring him in to allow justice to be served.

Mark.

Well. That anger had quelled somewhat. She had yet to feel bad for striking him back at Neptune, but she no longer wanted to follow through with the second hit. He was only doing what he had to. Mark had his nasty streaks here and there, but he was always the one to make sure the villains were brought to justice via the nation's judicial system rather than at the hands of the pissed off G-Force members. He was their level head when the energies of the fight were pushing them away from their common sense. Their prisoners did tend to offer up information to aid in the progression of the G-Force defences, so Mark was right … for the most part.

This was different, though. Mark didn't bring him in for questioning. He didn't allow the local enforcement teams to arrest them. He just … let him go. No questions, no threats, no second thought – not even a hard punch across the face. Just "off you go and thanks for holding my team mate in captivity and trying to kill her".

The anger rose to an annoying tickle in her belly as she recalled how easily he let him go. In time she'd forgive her Commander for it. Possibly the next time he gave her that wounded-puppy-dog look and softly called her name again.

She actually let out a short groan at her weakness for the blue-eyed leader of her team as she tipped back her Tim Horton's coffee cup to drain a mouthful of the acrid smelling remnants of her last coffee. When no liquid touched at her tongue, she brought the cup to her eyes and squinted into it as if seeking out even a small drop.

"Ugh," she moaned loudly as she stood and used the backs of her knees to push the chair back. "Time for another coffee run."

She took a last look at the monitors to ensure that they were still working the systems and then wandered on bare feet down stairs. She slowed her pace as she heard the cheer of Keyop as he tackled the latest game on his Nintendo Wii, but quickened back to her usual pace realizing that he probably wouldn't even notice her there.

She treaded quietly and smiled in victory as she crept by unnoticed. She kept her eyes on the back of Keyop's head as she walked past toward the kitchen. He was playing Guitar Hero. She'd be able to make as much noise as possible – he wouldn't notice her at all. The fluttering in her belly ceased and a smile spread across her face as relief kicked in.

It wasn't until she turned her focus back to the kitchen door that she found her victory in solitude shattered by the one man she really didn't want to see.

"Mark," she breathed with far more hostility than she intended as she stepped around him to walk toward the coffee machine.

"You're still mad." It was a half-question and half-statement.

"No."

"Yes you are." That time it was a full statement of fact.

She shook her head but didn't look back at him. "No, Mark. I'm hurt and I still can't squash this feeling I have that you betrayed me, but I'm not mad. Not anymore." She set her mug on the counter and absently wiped her hand through some spilled sugar. She slowly raised her eyes to him and tilted her head guiltily to one side when she caught sight of a purple bruise on his cheek and over his eye. "I'm sorry."

He made to take a step toward her, but seemed to catch himself to instead lean on a hip inside the doorway. "No need to apologize, Princess. I understand."

"That doesn't make it right, though, Commander." She turned to the coffee machine and debated upon whether or not to make a fresh pot, or to make do with the current brew. "You didn't deserve that."

"No, but you deserved to get it out." He watched her sweep her eyes across to him and offered her a smile. "It's not like Jason hasn't done it before."

"It looks painful."

He shrugged a shoulder. "It hurts enough to make sure I won't do anything to upset you ever again."

Princess set her focus on the coffee pot. A fresh pot would make sure she had to stand inside this discussion longer than necessary so she made do with pouring herself a cup of the old stuff. "I'm sorry, Mark. Honest. It won't happen again."

His brow flicked as she pivoted on a foot and began to walk toward him. The fact she wouldn't meet his gaze as she blew the steam from the mug indicated she was ready to just walk past and end the conversation. He wasn't going to let her walk off before he knew she was okay.

"Princess," he tried as he stepped in front of her to block her exit. "I think we need to talk."

Her eyes moved up, but refused to meet his gaze. She focused on his bruising instead. "Not right now, Mark. I have some work to get through."

"Yes," he insisted softly as he took the mug from her hands. He noticed her longing and desperate look and pursed lip expression as she watched the mug be set on the counter.

"Don't take my coffee."

"For my own safety I think it's best you don't have it in your hands."

Her eyes shot up to his. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head as his answer and leaned his rump against the edge of the counter. He folded his arms across his chest and loosely crossed his legs at the ankle. "You didn't visit med or the shrink before you left the base yesterday."

"Is this what your visit is about; to reprimand me for not seeking medical or psychological attention?" She couldn't help but sound a little irritated. "I didn't think it was necessary."

"It's protocol."

Her eyes rolled and she took a deep breath. "I have my own methods of therapy, Mark. I don't exactly want to have to rehash the whole ordeal to the doctors, nurses and shrink."

His pressed his lips tightly together and gave a nod of understanding. "What about me, then? Can you sit and talk through it with me?"

"Depends," she asked with a smirk. "Do you want to get hurt again?"

His eyes steeled. "I'm not playing, Princess. I can hold off the masses at Neptune if you agree to speak with me about it."

"Then lie."

He shook his head and tightened the cross of his arms against his chest. "I won't lie, Princess. That isn't how we do things in G-Force. I will back you up and come to your defence, but I will not lie just to make them and you happy."

"Not even if it means protecting me?"

He shook his head. "Protecting you means doing the right thing, Princess. Lying does the exact opposite. I need to know that you're okay for me to send you back out there again, not bullshit about it and drag you out while you're still in pain."

She let out a long breath. "Please, Mark. I just can't do it right now. Give me some time to work it out in my own mind before I leave myself at the mercy of the shrinks."

"Prin…" He let the word hang. He wanted to let her be, but he knew he had to press her to seek help.

Princess could see his inner battle and took a step forward hoping that she might have some power over him to let her do what she felt she needed. "Please, Mark."

He watched her approach and felt his entire body soften in imminent acceptance to her every need. "I just need to know you're okay. I'm worried about you."

She knew victory was close and took a final step to close the distance between them. Without seeking permission she threaded her arms around his waist and nestled her head underneath his chin. "I promise you that I'm okay. If I'm going to fall apart, you'll be the first to know."

At first he wasn't sure how he should respond. In all their years together she'd never come to him for an affectionate or reassuring hug. She'd thrown herself at him in relief on the command deck of the Phoenix when she thought he'd been killed once or twice, but never had she openly sought out genuine affection. He let his arms loosen from their grip across his chest and let them hover unsurely either side of her before he succumbed and returned her hold. "Promise me that and I'll see if I can hold off the medical teams at base."

She nestled in closer to him and nodded against his chest. "I promise you."

He dropped his face to lean his cheek against her hair and tightened his hold. It surprised him how comfortable this felt. Half of his mind told him never to let go, while the rational side told him to back away … fast. Before he could pull away, she gave him a gentle push to back lightly away from him.

"Thank you," she whispered genuinely. "I really needed that."

He looked down at her, still somewhat reluctant to release his hold. "I guess we can call this talking about it, right?"

She smiled with an innocently guilty blush. "Best therapy in the world." As if in afterthought, she rolled up to her toes and bushed her lips against his bruises. "I'm sorry I hit you."

He fought back the urge to turn into her to seek another, this time real, kiss. "You're forgiven," he whispered as she pulled herself from his hold.

She tucked her hair over her ear and looked shyly to the floor. "Oh, I should probably apologise for that too. I don't know what came …"

"I'd take that over a hit to the face any day." He interrupted with absolute honesty.

She smiled and opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the shrill call of her cellphone. She removed it from her robe pocket and juggled it in her hands excitedly before she found the means to open it. "Princess Ander … Craig! Hi!"

"Craig?" Mark questioned curiously with more jealousy than a Commander should feel. Her whole demeanour seemed to change from shy and tired to suddenly beaming and energized. "Is he your…?"

She grinned and covered the receiver. "From Forensics. He's our DNA specialist."

"DNA?"

Princess' attention immediately returned to the call, basically ignoring the fact Mark was in the same room.

"Craig. Be my hero and tell me you have something for me."

Mark watched with furrowed brows as she practically skipped out of the room and up the stairs. The question of why Princess was looking for DNA results immediately rushed any jealous thoughts from his head. They had no need to be looking at any forensic analysis – that wasn't what they did.

Just what was his third up to?


	3. Chapter 3

Princess was back in her room, seated at the computers, and ready to search out her email folder before she realized that she'd forgotten to bring her coffee with her. There was a momentary level of panic before she spied a stray can of Pepsi on her dresser. She was still listening to the results from the Federation DNA Analysis expert at Centre Neptune as she slid across the floor in her chair to retrieve the Pepsi.

"So tell me again," she said loudly to be heard over the pop and fizz of an opening can of warm Pepsi. "You're telling me that this profile has been linked to _how many_ sexual assault cases?"

"_Three different investigations across the country, Princess; one of them confirmed by M.O. as serial. The NYPD estimated the serial case to have thirty different assault victims."_

She almost spat out the warm drink. "So that's thirty three known assaults to this guy?"

"_Twenty-five, actually. The other eight linked to the serial are victim accounts. No biologicals were present."_

She hitched her breath and awkwardly rolled her chair back to her desk using a seated walk. "Any of his victims murdered?"

"_All except the eight without evidence. He didn't seem to be able to hang on to those little wildcats enough to do the deed."_

"Crude, Craig." She coughed as she pressed F5 on her keyboard to download the profile to her computer. "So, were you able to find a possible suspect match in CODIS?"

"_Nah, Prin. It seems this guy is still on the run. Hey, why are you so interested in this one? I thought you and your team didn't do the whole investigation thing."_

She ignored the question. "Do you have access to the FBI database?"

"_Aww, nah. That's one of those Top Secret things I can't get in to – which sucks because I might be able to get my work done a hell of a lot easier and in less time if I had access to all databases and didn't have to start from scratch every time."_

"Since when has the FBI been one of those Top Secret Departments, Craig?"

"_Since your Swallow used it to … Hell, what did he do again?"_

"Which time?" she chuckled softly as she let her fingers tap at her keyboard to attempt to finalize her own hacking attempt. "Last I heard it was his fifth time."

"_Yeah, well that kind of made it tough on all of us. Now we have red tape beaurocratic bullshit to wade through just to ask to borrow a stinking pen."_

"Pen?" She asked with a flick of her brow. "I don't get it …"

"_Oh yeah. You were on vacation with Keyop. The Feds barrelled in here about seven months ago. They had Anderson and Mark in closed door meetings for almost a week. We had to work alongside – sorry – out of their way for two months after that."_

"Do you know what it was about?"

"_Look Prin, this is speculation, okay. And I will deny ever telling you this. Apparently they wanted Mark and Anderson to sign on to some secretive undercover ops thing. I remember Mark being a livid-ass mess throughout the meetings. He quit twice and had to be coaxed back into G-Force by Anderson and Kane."_

"I see," she breathed softly as she finally heard the welcoming chirp of an All Access Authority pass on her centre monitor. "So it was something Mark wasn't happy with."

"_Obviously."_

She nodded with pursed lips and let her eyes scan the myriad of search options immediately available to her. "Craig, If I can possibly hack my way in to the Feds DB, you want me to put you in the program?"

"_What I want and what I can agree to are two different things, Princess. Tell you what. You have a sneaky peek for me and fill me in on what I might need to know."_

She gave a short giggle and considered a fast search parameter option she could use to find what she needed before she was discovered sneaking through the Federal network. "Will do, Craig. And thanks, I really appreciate you processing those samples so quickly."

"_Any time, Princess. I know you've had a hell of a week so I wanted to try and do something nice to cheer you up."_

"I wish I could say you cheered me up, Craig," she breathed softly. "But all you've done so far is worry me that little bit more."

"_I'm sure you'll work it out soon enough. Just go easy on Mark; you know he had no choice in this."_

She hummed an absent-sounding affirmative response and closed the phone to disconnect the call. No choice indeed. If Mark had been given even half of the information she knew now, then he should have immediately assumed the worst and made that asshole pay.

She felt that full-body shudder of anger rise again.

If he knew … Of course he knew.

She opened the Federal employee fingerprint database and loaded the print she had, and was still waiting on the AFIS results for. The match was made almost immediately.

"Philip Mason," she breathed softly as his image and file downloaded onto her screen. "Accused serial sexual predator and murderer. Born in Liverpool, raised in New York…"

Most of the following information was little more than the bio of an adult who had a rough childhood. She skimmed through the information on the main page and found hyperlinks within the text to take her to different parts of his electronic file. She chewed on her thumb as the information – and the man – became much clearer.

_Mason's ability to remain unidentified throughout his four years as New York's most vicious serial rapist and murderer makes him the perfect candidate for the Agency's most ambitious project. _

_The Federation's G-Force squadron have been unable to infiltrate, nor eliminate, the Earth's greatest threat. Spectra have obviously infiltrated Earth's many underground resources. Their resilience in the face of continual and expensive defeats leaves no doubt that their source of income is from the elite underground groups. It is this that the FBI believes is the key to the final undoing of the Spectran Armies and their leader Zoltar. _

_Mason already has known ties with several different mafia groups, as well as affiliation with the drug cartel and assassin-for-hire groups from the Middle East. His background would be considered essential to the Spectran forces and therefore will be given immunity for any crimes committed up to the date of our proposal in return for service with the FBI._

_Security Chief Anderson and his G-Force Commander, Mark (last name unknown), will be made aware of this proposal and their complete cooperation expected._

Princess sniffed hard. She didn't think that she completely understood, or agreed, that this proposal was worth thirty families not receiving justice for the crimes inflicted upon them. The FBI were admitting that they were setting a brutal killer up with not only complete freedom to continue to pursue his dastardly deeds, but was going to be put on the Federal payroll in order to do so.

She didn't know what to think as she skipped through some legal jargon in search of any information that might apply to her team. She found it rather quickly under the heading "Meeting with the Federation of Friendly Planets".

_At approximately 9:07 am on the morning of August 12, Agents Castleton, Rice and Lee met with the Federation Chief Anderson, President Kane and G-Force Commander Mark (name will need to be supplied at a later date for our records – as do the names of all G-Force personnel). _

_This meeting did not meet with the FBI expectations of complete cooperation between agencies. The biggest hurdle was the G-Force Commander. He was not welcoming to the idea of a serial killer being cleared of all charges in return for service within the bureau._

_We have to assume much of this argument stems from the fact he does have a female on his staff (the Swan) and what may occur should she or any of the team be forced into any form of captivity with this individual. When pressured and reminded of the fact he is the Swan's Commanding Officer and not lover or paid protector, he responded by resigning from his position of G-Force Commander. He stated that he would not and could not sign on to any such deal and would kill Mr. Mason himself if he were forced to work with him, especially where any of him team – specifically Princess (last name not known) – was concerned. _

_After a lengthy discussion and the promise that Mr. Mason would be undergoing heavy Depo-Provera treatments aimed at curbing any sexual deviances or urges, the G-Force Commander agreed to read through the entire mission plan._

_It must be said that the G-Force Commander is a worthy adversary to the FBI Covert Operations Unit. He expects detailed and complete information on any and all expected scenarios as well as bios on all involved staff. He has the tenacity of a Defence Lawyer and the brilliance of most of the Federal Head staff combined. Not much can be put past him, so our approach had to be adjusted in order to convince him to come on board._

_Demands of the Commander included: _

_Complete disclosure of all movements, and well as 24/7 Federation surveillance upon Mr. Mason;_

_Immediate disclosure on when we have confirmation of Mr. Mason's contact with the Spectran groups;_

_Authorization to detain and, if necessary, neutralize Mr. Mason should he be deemed to not only be acting outside of FBI interests, but should any of his team be in any way harmed or threatened beyond typical Spectran protocols;_

_Guaranteed safety of his third in Command, should she have to endure captivity in the line of duty with Mr. Mason as Spectran Commander of the week; and,_

_An immediate end to the agreement should Mr. Mason commit a single judiciary infraction after execution of the agreement._

_Obviously we could not offer guarantees on all demands, so a tentative agreement was made omitting demands iii and iv. The denial of demand iv led to another tantrum and resignation of the G-Force Commander, to which he was sated with the agreement that any forces against Mr. Mason would be at his discretion and only within the letter of the law – termination not being permitted unless there was a threat of imminent loss of life to either he or one of his team members without retaliatory action._

Princess actually found herself gagging at what she was reading. Did Mark know? Was he aware that this Philip Mason was the Commander of the week for this specific assignment? Was that how Anderson knew that his protective membrane would actually work?

She squirmed uncomfortably on her chair, not quite sure how she should be feeling. She knew her belly hurt, as did every single bruise she had, and for a moment she leaned over the bin fearing she was going to vomit.

He had to know. He had to.

Why didn't he warn her? He and Anderson knew she was being sent in alone.

She began to rock backward and forward on her chair as she shakily raised her hand to move the mouse for more information.

_Update to file. January 20._

_Contact has been made with Spectra using Federation resources and intel. Mason is now firmly entrenched within the Earth-bound Spectran army. At present there is no need to notify the Federation (we feel their part of the operation is now complete), but Mason will be closely monitored with a small handful of Federal Agents who will be acting as Mason's under hands. With Federal Agents on board, the G-Force Commander's demands of complete disclosure will not be met. Unless we feel that G-Force intervention is required, they will not be notified._

_There is suggestion that Spectra is preparing for an attack that not even G-Force will be able to ward off – it will be this mission that we hope Mason is assigned to._

She sat bolt upright in her chair. The FBI had deliberately gone against their own agreement?

Mark didn't know …

She continued to read.

_Update to file. February 16._

_The final intelligence from our Special Operatives and Mr. Mason has been received. Within a week of the Agency purchasing a Strip Club (Named: September's) and investing into the pornographic industry under Mason's name, contact was made through Spectran Assistants to Zoltar._

_We are pleased to report that after communications spanning two months Mason has been granted leadership for what appears to be Spectra's most ambitious attack on Earth. There is no possible way to intercept the threat as it heads toward our planet, and the collateral damage appears that it will be at a level that should be deemed unacceptable by this agency. However, after several meetings amongst Agency tactical staff, we feel that the loss of life will ultimately be worth the forward movement in this assignment. At this point we feel that G-Force's intervention will not be required – therefore Mark (G-Force Commander) will not have the notification he requested._

_Security Chief Anderson has been provided with information and intelligence that may be helpful in allowing the female member of his G-Force unit to infiltrate, should this become something out of our control._

_Update to file. February 18._

_This department received a rather aggressive communication from the G-Force Commander at approximately 7:15am. It would appear that our silence in the months leading to this project resulted in him utilizing this forth-in-command (Keyop – last name unknown) and his computer hacking skills to break into the FBI networks for some covert operations efforts of his own. _

_The complete mission parameters of the coming Spectran invasion and the details behind our silence were revealed through this illegal search._

_It was only the threat of Federal prosecution under the criminal computer crimes act that we were able to subdue what were a myriad of creative and promised threats to any and all FBI operatives employed at this branch of the agency._

_It goes without saying that the Commander is upset to be so unprepared for what will land on Earth in a little more than 48 hours. More than that, the suggestion that it will be his third that is to be sent in for investigation and infiltration through the very threat itself had the Commander in more of an aggressive state than one would expect from the Condor himself._

_He was immediately served with a gag order and a warrant to ensure his silence, as well as the protection of our Agent, until the closure of the full assignment. This assignment is believed to be able to extend beyond this single Spectran attack._

_The warrant specifically states that should any harm come to Mr. Mason, for any reason, that the G-Force Operative Unit and the entire Project would be immediately disbanded – or put under the control of the Federal Investigation Bureau. _

_We received no further communication from any Federation personnel once the warrant was issued. _

Princess couldn't help it. For the very first time since she had been captured, she began to cry. It wasn't a weeping or silent sobbing kind of cry. It was a full-blown, loud, choking sob, enough so that between each inhale she couldn't remember how to breathe. Each breath that finally did come drew into her with a loud gulp, then exploded out of her with a wail.

He knew.

Mark knew exactly what she was heading into … He didn't even try to talk her out of it.

She stood from her desk and shoved the middle monitor off the desk. As it crashed heavily to the ground she collapsed into herself, contracting her entire body into her stomach with a pain that made her cry out.

And then he was there.

At her side

Begging her to tell him she was okay.

Bent over and clutching onto her stomach, she couldn't respond to him. She could barely find her own breath, let alone find the means to tell him she was okay.

Until he touched her. His arm shifted across her back as he tried to draw her to a stand to guide her to her bed.

"Princess. It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

At the sound of his voice and his promise of safety her crying immediately ceased. "I'm safe," her throat creaked out.

"Yes Princess," he assured softly as he continued to try to coax her to a stand.

"Safe?" she asked again with a voice an octave higher than last time.

"Yes, Princess. I promise you." He tried to pull her into his hold. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Oh. That was it.

Her eyes flashed wide and her breath hitched in sharply. With a bellow of the word "safe" she took her hands from her stomach and shoved them into his chest. She stepped forward to flex her elbows and yelled again as she shoved him off her.

"You knew!" She accused hotly as she watched him stumble backward. "You knew and you still let me go in there alone."

Realization dawned and Mark staggered then straightened and held his hands out in front of himself in defence. "Princess, please. You have to know I…"

"I know everything," she screamed as she threw herself at him. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, brought him toward her then tossed him backward again. "You sent me in there knowing I'd get hurt!"

Mark didn't fight back; he didn't defend himself. He didn't even brace himself when she came at him to give him another shove into the wall. His shoulder struck the wall and he staggered against it.

"Princess. It wasn't supposed to go down like that."

Her eyes flared as she backed up. "No? Then how was it supposed to go down, Mark?" She patted at her chest with her palm. "Just what was I supposed to expect in there? Flowers and candy?"

"He wasn't supposed to touch you."

She coughed in disbelief. "Oh no?" she questioned as she backed up to her dresser and began to swat at the items to look for something heavy to throw. "And, what? You believe the word of a convicted serial rapist that he won't touch a woman?"

"He wasn't convicted," he countered, only realizing the error of his rebuttal as a crystal jewellery box was launched at his head. He ducked in time so that it hit the wall behind his head and shattered. "Princess. Jesus!"

"How could you?!" She demanded hotly, her eyes scanning for something else. "How could you send me in without warning?"

"I had no choice." His voice was panicked. He could see her looking for more weapons and knew he might not be so quick to avoid another one. "Please, Princess. Let's just talk about this like adults."

She closed her hand on another weapon, this one perfectly moulded to her hand and well known across the galaxy as being her most lethal weapon … her yo-yo. "It's too late for talking, Commander."

His eyes widened at the sight of her palming her weapon, but he had no idea where to begin to try and calm her enough not to use it on him. "Princess. Just. Please. Come on. Listen to me for a second."

"No!" She screamed as she brought her hand around and fired her G-Force weapon at his head.

Mark had to thank the Lord for his reflexes. As soon as the yo-yo left her hand, his hand shot out to catch the disk in his left hand. He tightened his grip on it to not allow her to recoil it for another shot. Thinking he had the upper hand, he curled a lip and nodded toward her bed. "Now sit down, calm down, and give me a chance to explain," he ordered firmly. When he saw her eyes flare, he curled his lip. "That's an order!"

Her entire expression softened at his command. "An Order, Mark?" She breathed softly. "That is your defence in an argument? To order me to back down?"

Her cool and calm delivery of words immediately worried him. "Uh..?"

It happened too late. His realization that she still had the other deadly half of her weapon still ringed on her finger didn't dawn until she had slowly blinked her eyes and given him an icy-green stare.

Then she touched the trigger to the electrical charge. He didn't even get to acknowledge a single beat of his heart before the charge hit him with enough of a charge to drop him to his knees. His brain begged his hand to release the head of the weapon, but his arms and hands would not obey.

All he could do was stare at Princess and plead with only his eyes for her to stop. After a long three seconds her own horror few into her as a gasp and she dropped the wire cording of the yoyo off her finger. The charge ceased, but the pain and paralysis did not.

Her hands flew to her mouth and she immediately dropped to his side. "Mark? Oh God, Mark." Her fingers immediately and expertly sought out his Carotid Artery to check for a pulse. She wished she could say that she was relieved to find a strong thumping against her fingers, but panic was still the reigning emotion. "Mark I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

His muscles still wouldn't obey his mind's command. He fell limp. He teetered slowly, back to front and then side-to-side, before he fell against her.

She pulled him against her and wondered if she had to strength to pull him up onto her bed. "Don't worry, Mark," she cooed in a frightened manner. "The charge was still set at the training strength. You'll be okay. I promise you."

He still didn't respond, nor could he enjoy the possessive hold she had on him. He could feel every emotion ripping through her and knew only one thing for certain: His third was not his third right now. Princess was lost inside a kaleidoscope of emotions she never knew she had … and it was all his fault. He absolutely did not blame her for this. He wanted to reassure her he understood, that he empathized, but his voice simply wouldn't work.

She clutched him tightly to her. Her fingers dug beyond just the fabric of his shirt and clawed painfully at his skin. She rocked them both together and let her breath draw haggardly in and out of her and she chanted a single word over and over: "Sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

Although some of this may seem completely and utterly irrelevant, it isn't. Trust me on that...

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"Sorry."

"Sorry."

"Mark, I am so sorry."

How many times did she feel the need to say it? Just what numerical figure could she apply to the word seeping from her mouth to make sure that Mark knew she really, honestly, absolutely did not mean to do that to him.

Mark still wasn't moving. With the charge exceeding 4watts, she knew that it would be some time before his brain recovered and his muscles obeyed their commands. She still couldn't believe she'd done it; that she'd actually really hurt him.

She continued to rock backward and forward while clutching him close to her chest. Her head shook as her chanting continued. "Mark. I'm so sorry. Forgive me, I didn't mean it."

It surprised her somewhat that she wasn't crying. As mortified and scared as she was, there wasn't a single tear creeping down her cheek. She could feel moisture on Mark's cheeks as his eyes shed their own tears, but nothing fell from her eyes. There wasn't even dampness within them to suggest she was upset at all.

"This isn't right," she whispered softly against his temple. "Something inside me isn't right."

His eyes blinked weakly, but he couldn't say anything in return. That was fine, though. Chances were she wouldn't be listening anyhow. He had do make do with the only thing he could do: Listen. Listen and see if there was something he could do for her when he was finally able to move.

"Did you know this might happen, Mark?" she questioned softly. "Did you know I'd fall apart, or did you truly believe that whatever happened would be easily forgotten when I returned to Neptune?" She pressed her lips against his temple and smoothed her hand over his hair as she rocked. "Did you consider the consequences?"

"More than that," she continued softly as if cooing a child to sleep. "Did you think that a serial killer could really be trusted? The FBI are so good at fucking it all up, but you let them manipulate you." She cleared her throat and shook her head. "You never let anyone manipulate and control you like that. Never."

She chuckled on an inhale. "If you did, perhaps I'd have had the chance to hold you like this without you being semi-conscious. Made love with you, perhaps."

Seriousness took over again. "I can't let it go, though, Mark. Look at what he's done to me … to us." She nestled her cheek against his hair. "What has he done to all of the other families his crimes have affected?" She held him tighter. "They need closure. I need closure."

He didn't need to keep listening to her to know what her mind was thinking. It terrified him to think of what she was capable of doing, or what could happen to her, if she just took off in her current state to seek some sort of vile vengeance against her assailant. He tried hard to speak, to assure her that he and Jason were already making plans of their own; that all they wanted from her was to heal.

"_Let us deal with him," _his mind begged_. "Let us make it up to you."_

She obviously couldn't hear him, or maybe she simply ignored him. She rubbed her cheek along his hair and quazi-kissed his head with an open, unsure mouth.

"I know what I need to do, Mark," she breathed, letting the words ghost across his scalp. "I know what will make it all better." She pulled back enough to look down into his face. "And you trust me, don't you?"

His eyes gave a slow blink, not to convey any sort of message, but to clear his vision to look at her. He had to assess her mind right now – and the assessment wasn't reassuring.

She shuffled back to let him lay on the floor, then crawled to her bed to pull down a pillow and her pink, quilted, blanket. "I know what I'm doing, Mark. This is my job – our job – we need to eliminate all Spectran spies and armies." She tucked the pillow under his head and cupped his face with both hands. "It's for the greater good."

He watched her with fear as she tilted her head gently to the side and dropped her eyes to his mouth. Her lips parted slightly and slowly as she lowered her mouth to his. His eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her mouth to his and for the briefest moment, he let himself enjoy it. It wasn't until she pulled back that he realized it could quite possibly be the last time he'd have the chance to be this close to her.

Immediately he did everything in his power to move, to speak, to do anything beyond just blinking his eyes in an attempt to stop her. Even just to alert Keyop, to make sure he knew there was a problem. Princess may have been the kid's unofficial mother, but he still had the power over her to bring her back into reality and stop her doing something as stupid as … as what she was obviously thinking.

Salvation seemed to come with the familiar heavy-footed march upstairs of the youngest G-Forcer.

Princess' eyes shot up to the door in horrific realization that she was about to be busted. "Oh God," she moaned softly half a heartbeat before she leapt to her feet and locked her bedroom door. She held her breath as she heard the footsteps draw near and slow as they approached the doorway.

Her head flicked down to Mark, and she sighed hard as she dropped onto her knees at his side and offered yet another apology to him.

"Mark, don't hate me for this, please."

There was a gentle rap on the door followed by a timid voice calling her name. There was definite worry inside the quiet brips and broops of her youngest brother, and she had no heart to add to it by letting him see what she had done to their Commander.

Her response slid out of her in the form of a long moan; a moan that immediately jolted the young Commander lying beside her.

"Oh, Mark," she moaned, letting her breath draw in and out of her heavily. "Oh God, Mark…"

Mark's eyes flew open wide in shock as she sounded out the sounds of making love. He was stunned even further as he watched her entire body play into her act. The movements she made were sensual and fluid, and gave him a definite visualization of every daydream he'd ever had of her. He didn't know what was worse, that she was faking having sex with him to get rid of Keyop, or the fact that this was probably the closest he would ever get to actually sharing a sexual experience with her.

He was finally able to let out a moan of his own, and although it was not intended to add to the show playing out in front of him, it certainly increased the possibility that Keyop thought Mark and Princess were actually … doing it.

Princess seemed to fall into her own little trance of one-sided, solitary, lovemaking. While her hands heavily ran along her mid-section, over her chest and through her hair to simulate her own reactions, she fell short of actually touching herself. Her breath moaned out Mark's name several more wanton times before she peaked with a high pitched: "I love you, Mark!" That drew a disgusted and horrified gasp from behind the door, followed by a fast set of running footfalls and a slamming door.

Princess' trance immediately ended. She rocked back on to her ankles and set her hand on his thigh. "Sorry, Mark. That was the only thing I could think of to make him go away." She looked down at him and offered a smile. "You understand, right?"

"We've pulled this kind of stuff before." She drew herself to a stand and casually walked to her wardrobe. Her entire demeanour had suddenly switched to relaxed and reminiscent – in other words, typically Princess. "Remember when we were trying to get into that Spectran mountain base?" She turned her head to him and smiled guiltily before she returned her focus to the clothing hanging in front of her. "You all of a sudden, just out of nowhere, shoved me back into the wall and just laid one on me." She pulled out a short leather skirt and held it to her midsection as if appraising the look. "You kissed me so aggressively that I thought you were just going to inhale my entire body."

She tossed the skirt onto the bed and returned her focus to the wardrobe. "I remember you growling as you told me how much you had to take me right there and then and how you would explode if you didn't." She giggled and pulled a halter-neck top out of the wardrobe. "I was actually disappointed when the Spectran soldiers interrupted us and told us to be on our way. But damn if the rouse didn't fool them."

She slid the door of the wardrobe closed and skipped to her bureau to dig through her underwear drawer. "Or how about when you actually …" she blushed and giggled "how did Jason put it? Um, dry humped me in the cliffs to distract the forty guards who thought we were members of G-Force."

She put a foot up on the edge of the bed and slowly pulled on a thigh-high pair of stay-up stockings. "How funny was it when they all lowered their weapons and then Jason and Keyop dropped down behind them?"

She dug inside her drawer for something small, black and lacy and replaced her white panties with the smallest and most delicate thong that the Commander of G-Force had ever seen. "You know, Mark," she breathed wistfully. "We've played it in the field and we always seem so comfortable together, even joking about it. But," he gave him a confused sort of frown. "But we've never actually gone there, you know? Why?"

He fairly well ignored her stories, focusing totally on how she was dressing and what exactly she intended to do. "Do…t…" his voice managed to croak out. "Pl…se.."

She spun to him as she pulled the skirt up and let out a relieved breath. "Oh thank God. I thought you'd never come out of it," she waited long enough to slip on her halter-top, and knelt down beside him again. She took a pulse reading and ran the back of her fingers down his face. "It'll wear off a little easier if you try and sleep through it, Mark. I don't know what it is about my charge that causes such a prolonged paralysis effect, but we've found with prisoners that if they sleep it off the recovery is easier.

His lip curled in concentration as he shifted his arm enough to attempt to grab hold of her arm. "Th …s is su…c…de"

She smiled, let out an exaggerated huff and shook her head. "What is suicide, Mark? I'm just going to escape the claustrophobic confines of this apartment and find somewhere to clear my head."

"No you're n…t," he gruffly croaked as his brain finally took control over his voice box. "Don't do this. Let Jason and I han … le it."

She flicked a brow and shook her head with a repeated set of teeth sucking ticks. "Stop fighting it, Mark. Just relax and go to sleep. I'll leave you alone to have some quiet."

"Princess." This time the gravelled sound of his voice was stern warning. He was regaining control of his muscles and painfully rolled his chest up, and then back down to the floor. "Don't make me order you to stay put, or for me to make sure you're shadowed."

She tapped at her lip with her finger and looked upon him with a bored expression. "No, because we know what happened last time you gave me an order, don't we?"

"Don't threaten me."

"Don't make me."

His voice softened as he relaxed his body into her pillow and wriggled his fingers beside his rump. "This isn't exactly proactive is it?"

She shook her head and dropped down into a childish slouch on the edge of her bed. Her knees pressed together with her ankles angled outward. Her hands rested on her knees. She let out a long breath to blow up at her bangs. "I have to do something, Mark. I can't just sit here and let him get away with all he's done to people."

He moaned loudly as he finally found the strength to pull himself to a relatively firm seated position. "This is tougher than one would think," he complained to himself before replying in some way to her. "Princess, I can't begin to understand this from your perspective. I don't think I could possibly fathom the emotion inside you that's making you become everything that you aren't, but I have to try." He managed to rise shakily to a stand and slowly dropped on the mattress beside her. "And I can't let you just run off straight back into the war when I don't know if you're … healthy."

Her eyes slid across to him and searched his face for a moment. With a resigned sigh she nodded and leaned against him. "I just don't know how to work though this, Mark," she whined as she applied some cherry-pink lip-gloss over her dried lips. "I feel so vulnerable."

He draped his arm over her shoulder and levered her chin with his finger upward so that she was looking at him. "I promise you that we'll get you and I and the whole team through this."

Her lips pursed as if to kiss the air between them. "And Philip Mason?"

He focused on her mouth and half-closed his eyes as he moved in to kiss her. "Is my problem now." His eyes closed as he pressed his mouth to hers to initiate a long and languid roll of tongue against tongue.

He certainly did recall the incidents Princess described. Although it was done strictly for tactical reasons, sometimes he wished that the Spectrans weren't actually there and they were in their own little place of solitude. He meant every crude and dirty word he growled when in those positions … Absolutely he did.

Kissing Princess now, with nothing but his own need and want fuelling the exchange, he wasn't so surprised at the tingle he felt in his mouth as her tongue stroked against his. As the rush of pins and needles cursed quickly down to his groin, he accepted it as being simply a part of the process to coax her into making love with him – to make her forget her pain – to make the illusion and discomfort for Keyop real rather than a faked game concocted simply to get him to leave.

But the pins and needles didn't stop at his groin, and the expected response and stirring in that region didn't happen. He felt an unfamiliar heaviness in his muscles and quickly pulled back from her.

"Princess?" He asked in more of a confused tone than as an accusation.

She leaned in and kissed the air against his cheek. "Sorry, Mark."

His vision began to blur and he slid back further onto the mattress. "What did you do?"

"I had to," she sighed as she held up the small lip-gloss cylinder. "The Chief gave this to me a while back as part of my arsenal should I need to … uh … use inventive methods to subdue a suspect. It's a fast acting muscle relaxant … no stronger than your dentist would use. You'll be okay in an hour or two."

He shook his head, tried to stand, and fell back onto the bed. "Princess, this is …" he found that forming his words was becoming increasingly difficult. "How could you do this?"

She pursed her lips and lightly pushed his shoulders down to lay him on her bed. "I have to do this, Mark. He hurt me. He hurt so many women. He needs to pay for what he did."

He tried to grab on to her arm to stop her. He wanted to yell and curse her for outright lying to him. "This is unforgivable, Princess."

She actually looked pained as she pressed her palms into the mattress to lever herself into a stand. "Then we're even, Mark." She sidled over to her dresser and removed a short blonde wig from a stand next to a small vanity mirror. "For what it's worth, I really _really_ wanted you to do what you just did." She pulled the wig on and adjusted it to hide her black hair. "Making love with you would ease every physical ache and pain I have." She looked completely downcast as she turned to face him. "But the pain I have in here …" she patted her chest "would still remain. Until he's brought to a real justice, Mark, I'd never thoroughly and completely enjoy you."

Mark's world began to darken. "Princess, please."

She grabbed her bag and cellphone and leaned down to kiss his mouth. "I do love you, and I am sorry. Sleep well."


	5. Chapter 5

So much for this being a short fic … It's nearly done – I promise.

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The one thing Princess had to admit was good about the city's taxi service was that they actually seemed to know exactly where they were going. She felt a little stupid that she had bolted from her apartment without first writing down the address – or even finding the address – for the strip bar mentioned in the FBI files. She felt somewhat pathetic when she discovered that the set of keys she'd taken weren't for her motorbike, but they were actually for the Kubota vehicle Keyop "borrowed" from the local golf course. Fortunately she had enough luck to have swiped the correct cell-phone so she phoned for a cab and prayed that the driver would be able to solve her two major problems to take her to a new one.

Surprisingly, and expensively, the cab had actually been able to transport her to the bar in question. And so now it was that she stood at the flashing lights and glass-enclosed photographs of semi-naked women wondering just what exactly she was going to do.

Running off half-cocked wasn't exactly a personality trait of the G-Force Swan; behaviour like that was far more suited to the male members of her unit. It was imperative, then, that she formulate some tactically brilliant plan that could be executed long before her Commander recovered from the sleeping drug she gave him.

Hell, after pulling a hair-brained scheme like that against the most dangerous man in the Galaxy, she'd want to make sure she finalized her mission to perfection.

…Because he was going to kill her.

Innocence and unsureness, as well as a good measure of "what do I do now?" forced her to stand motionless at the club's entrance. The elaborate flashing lights and photographs of the big-breasted dancers immediately intimidated her and, for the first time since she began active service, she felt like running.

"This was a bad idea," she moaned tiredly to herself as she fisted her right hand and nestled it into the crook of her neck under her chin. "I am so out of my league."

A smooth voice from a short man with a terrible comb over wearing a velvet purple and green suit, wafted in from her left. "I think you're definitely in someone's league, kitten."

She turned and eyeballed the short, greasy-looking man with contempt. "Excuse me?"

He peeled himself from the door and took a bold few steps toward her. "You look to me like a girl in need of work." He gave her an obvious and thorough once-over appraisal that actually made her cover herself. "You might lack the confidence and assets," he motioned in front of his chest to indicate boobs "but I think we can find something for you. New blood always makes the boys happy."

Her eyes gave a tight shut then wide-open movement that warned the man she took his words as challenge. She defiantly slouched her hip and swept a hand downward through the air in front of her in indication of her physique. "Oh. I think I am more woman than any man in here can handle."

This seemed to please the man and he blew a cheek-full of cigar smoke out of the side of his mouth with a smirk. "Really?"

"Yes," she replied with a challenging smirk. "Really."

"Good," he snapped as he tossed the burned-out butt of his cigar over his shoulder and on to the road. "Then follow me and I'll introduce you to Philip."

Her brow flicked high. There was absolutely no way it was going to be this easy. "Philip?"

He looked back over his shoulder with a smirk before he opened the door to walk through before her. "The owner. He likes to audition all of his potential employees."

Her eyes widened and lips tightened into an unsure "O" shape. "Just, uh, what does audition imply?"

He smirked over the end of a new cigar as he bit off the end and spat it to the ground at her feet. "Whatever Philip deems necessary to see if you have what it takes to be a September's girl."

All of a sudden this little vendetta of hers began to look like a really bad idea. Okay, sure, she had the want, need and ability to kick Philip's ass over every wall in his "audition room", but a quick scan of the bar revealed quite a number of gun-toting and muscular bodyguards. She may have held the reputation for being able to overcome and defeat people like this, but she had to be honest: a Spectran sniper/gunner was a lousy shot and easily beaten, however, Earth guys? Earth guys knew how to point, aim and shoot.

Her host led her to a velvet-draped bar underneath the grinding hips of another dancer. "Wait here. I'll go and see if Mr. Morris is available for an audition tonight."

She must have sounded a little frightened when she nodded and answered with an affirmative, because he gave her a light slap on the ass and promised her that Mr. Morris would be gentle.

It took every ounce of effort not to drop him with a single round kick.

Now alone – kind of – she took a long moment to carefully analyse the scene. As per building code regulations, there were several easy-access emergency exits. Each door was guarded by a single large bouncer. Some openly displayed their weapons, while others kept theirs concealed. The floor bouncers all carried standard security issue Tazer guns. Those, she surmised quickly before considering whether or not they were modified versions, she could easily withstand and continue to kick ass.

Her biggest problem could very well be the five security cameras perched around the venue. Even if she could kick ass and get out in time not to get killed, chances were that the camera's were digital and sent images over WiFi into a different location altogether. The FBI would definitely be able to isolate her image then manipulate it enough to identify her.

Speaking of the FBI … If they were the investors of this club, would there be agents on watch inside?

She inhaled deeply and puckered her lips as she considered the best way of doing this. Mark was right – as usual – this going in alone thing really was not a great plan of attack.

Of course, he was one of the heads of the project who thought it was a great tactical move to send her into the flowers all alone …

Her concentration and analysis of the scene was such that she didn't even notice a familiar scent and figure lean on the bar beside her.

"Where's Mark?"

At the sound of her Commander's name she angled her head to the man at the bar. She almost threw her arms around him in relief. "Jase …"

Jason drained the remains of his glass and flicked a finger to the topless girl behind – and through – the legs of the dancer for another drink. "Jack's on the rocks, love. Ahh, better make it a triple." He flicked a twenty dollar bill on the bar and turned around so that his back was to the girls. He set his elbows on the bar and didn't spare a glance at Princess as he did his own share of reconnaissance. "You haven't answered my question."

She leaned one elbow on the bar and tried to play the role of a flirtatious stripper wannabe. "He's … in bed."

Jason sniffed hard enough to raise one side of his lip and let his eyes shift in her direction. "I take it he doesn't know you're here then?"

"Uh, yeah," she admitted with a wince. "He does."

"What?" he snapped angrily before he stared down a guy making eyes at Princess. He pointed a cigarette-laden couple of fingers at him. "Mine, asshole, find your own."

"We sat and discussed it," she mumbled, her eyes wide with innocence. "And he fell asleep while I was getting ready." She ran her fingertip down his arm and leaned in as if purring into his ear. "So. Why are _you_ here?"

He looked down at where her finger was drawing circles on his elbow and slowly drew his eyes up from waist to chest. "What did you do to him?"

"To who?"

Jason twisted enough to make every man in the premises know that this particular young stripper was his favourite for the evening. He looked at her through his brows as he spoke and tucked a 5 bill into her skirt band. "Don't play coy with me, Princess. Mark isn't going to voluntarily let you out of his sight until we're sure this is all over. If he isn't here, then you did something to him."

She drew her fingertip along his vinyl #2 and, although already somewhat tiring of playing the stripper, gave an air-head giggle. "I did nothing, Jase. He kissed me, not the other way around."

"You didn't hit him again did you?"

She blinked slow. Surely he should have leapt all over her admission of being kissed by Mark and effectively changed the subject. Obviously he wasn't in a real playful mood. "No I didn't hit him, but I see that you did." At his raised brow she rolled her eyes. "Even if I kicked him in the face I would be incapable of producing that large a bruise. The haematoma on his eyes was not my doing." She sighed softly and took his glass as the girl behind the bar set it beside his arm. "I got him on the cheek."

His brow rose as she took a light sip of the drink. "Yeah, well, he deserved it."

She winced at the burn of alcohol down her throat and passed the glass to him. "The poor guy has been on the receiving end of a lot these past couple of days, hasn't he?" She ran her hand over her wig and puffed out her chest a little. "He's so mad at me right now."

"So am I," he muttered over the rim of his glass. "But you still haven't told me what you did to him."

"Is it important?"

He inhaled off his cigarette and raised his head to blow the smoke to the ceiling. "If the shit hits the fan tonight I need to know if he'll be in any shape to come help out."

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, he won't be. Trust me on that." She caught a glare and actually found herself shrinking a little with the accusation in his eyes. "Okay. First I tazered him with my yo-yo, then I drugged him. He'll be out for at least another couple of hours."

Jason actually spray-spat his drink at her admission. "You did what?!"

Her face creased in regret. "I know," she whined. "I'm a dead girl when he sees me next."

Jason's eyes flared as he moved his face in close to hers. "What is going on with you?" he growled dangerously. "Just whose side are you on these days?"

"Hey," she snapped back. "I'm taking a page from your book and growing a set of cajones. This asshole has to pay for what he did to me, and if you and Mark aren't willing to help me make sure that happens then I need to take every measure to ensure _I_ can do it without interference."

His eyes locked on hers for a long moment in analysis before he scanned the rest of her face and posture. What stood before him wasn't Princess – or even the Swan in battle mode – what he saw was a confused and hurting little girl readying to jump unprepared into the worst fire in Hell. "No." He barked firmly. "Go home."

"Home?" she breathed in question. "No, I don't think so."

"Don't make me drag you out of here."

Her eyes narrowed. "I challenge you to try, Jason." She smoothed her hands down over her chest and blew a kiss at a stranger across the room. "Check on Mark and his success in stopp…"

His hand snapped to grip onto her upper arm. "So help me, Princess. I will damn-well contact Anderson on this. You aren't yourself, and you haven't even thought this out." He saw the flare of challenge in her eyes. "Do you even know what you're going to do when you get alone with this guy?"

"Yes," she grunted as she pulled herself roughly out of his grip. "Kill him."

"Which will solve what, exactly?" He rebutted darkly. "Does it make you feel any better doing that out in the field when you have to do it? Huh? Does it? No! You're a damn girlie weepy mess every time you have to pull a trigger and drop a goon."

"This is different," she snarled. "He'll never have to face any form of justice over what he did to me and the other thirty girls he attacked because he's protected by the damn Feds." The sudden look of shock and question on his face told her that Mark hadn't been exactly forthcoming with his second about the specifics of the situation, so she continued. "Yes, that's right. 33 victims and immunity … and a fucking Federal pension and protection for serving Spectra."

"What?"

She saw the arrival of the comb-over greaseball, and pushed herself from the bar. "Why don't you ask Mark all about it. The details will be very enlightening. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an audition to take."

He tried one last time, still firm, but not so aggressive. "Think it through, Princess. If this if Federal, you're in a larger pile of shit than any of us will be able to dig you out of."

She kissed the air between them. "Later, Jason."

"Princess. Let us work this out as a team before you go ahead and do this…" He watched her hook her arm into the arm of the Greaseball and let out a low growl. "Fuck."

He folded his arms across hic chest and curled a lip as he surveyed the scene and attempted to work out just what to do. He wasn't going to let Princess get in too deep, but he wasn't going to stop her either. Her escape would likely be her stumbling block and, although he was a handy fellow, needed to find some method of getting her out without it having obvious ties to G-Force.

Mark wasn't available and even if he was, Jason figured that the Fed's would know his identity immediately. With a grunt after he drained the last of the whiskey in his glass, he raised his wrist to his mouth.

"G2 to G5, Tiny … I think I'm gonna need your help, man."


	6. Chapter 6

Okay … I feel I must warn you. This is not a pretty chapter.

It's kind of messed up.

Mature Rating? Absolutely.

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Princess really tried hard not to focus on the chauvinistic demands of G-Force's second in command. She was fairly used to his teasing and comments in the field with regards to her being inferior-due-to-gender. Usually it was a decent enough push for her to make sure she proved he was absolutely wrong in his assessment. She called it his version of a pep talk, a rev to drive her to kick ass, and as usual, this time it worked.

She felt, in her own words, somewhat "squicky" walking arm in arm alongside a fellow who reeked of cigars and cheap cologne. She put it down to being a necessary step in the completion of her assignment for the evening, so just imagined she was walking the red carpet with someone far more appealing. It wasn't entirely difficult with the loud music and cheers from impressed men at the dancer of the hour adding to the illusion.

"You ready, Kitten?" The man, whose name she had yet to discover, mumbled cheekily as he pressed his hand into the door. "Phil's pretty excited to meet you – say's he hasn't seen tight, fresh meat in a few days."

Her eyes blinked and shifted to her host. "Tell me he isn't as crude as you are, and I'll be ready."

He smirked. "Get used to the crass call of the pervert, Kitten. We get 'em all in here." He gave her a wink and pressed his palm into the thick red door to push it open. "Hey, Phil. Here's a newbie for ya. Got the feeling she's a virgin dancer, so you might want to break her in a little."

Princess practically froze when she heard his voice slide in from the darkness. "Breaking them in is my specialty."

The greaseball had to drag her into the room, but he did so with a smile. "She's timid, but she's hot. She had the boys drooling just standing at the bar … dressed. Can't wait to see what she does to them wearing just a thong." He pulled her to stand in front of him. "Phil, meet …" He nudged her. "What's your name?"

"C-Cassandra," she stuttered, immediately realizing she'd offered him her birth name.

"Cassandra," Philip echoed from where he was seated. "Step into the light, young lady, and let me take a real good look at you."

She squinted to try and see him behind a bright spotlight as she stepped into the light, puffed out her chest and tilted her frame as seductively as she could possibly manage. She couldn't see the man, but she could hear his appreciative whistle.

"Nice," he purred with interest. "Now turn around and let me take a look at that ass."

She pivoted on one foot and deliberately jutted out her backside so as to show him a light tease of the lowest rise of her ass. "Do I meet your approval?" She asked softly, perhaps with a little less confidence than she needed.

"Oh yeah," he growled hungrily. "Perfection in its finest. Not a spot of cellulite or a stretch mark in sight."

She heard his chair shift across the floor, and the light flapping of a jacket as he stood. "I work hard to maintain this level of perfec.." she stopped as he stepped around the light and swiftly approached her.

And then there he was.

Her attacker.

She held her breath.

He seemed less imposing in a dark Hugo Boss tailored suit than in the tight Spectran uniform he was wearing last time she saw him. Back in the underground base he looked large, aggressive and … well, stupid. Here, dressed much like a celebrity in an expensive designer suit, he looked no more frightening than … well than any of the employees in the Admin wing at Neptune.

While Spectran Commander of the week, he hid behind a mask. This made her hate easy to hold onto when she had only eyes without a face image inside her mind, but now, she saw the handsome facial structure of a young and successful man and it wasn't so easy. Here he was. A man. A typical guy. Just your average typical white boy.

All of a sudden she felt the desire for assassination rush out of her through a fast exhale. She couldn't possibly kill a man – no matter what he did.

Mark and Jason were right – this was foolish.

She held her hands up in front of her and shook her head, feeling the familiar tug of commonsense finally make its appearance.

"You know what, this was a mistake." She muttered meekly. "I really shouldn't be here."

His brow flicked and his tongue licked at his top lip. "Oh no," he corrected. "You _should_ be here."

She blushed and smiled, then backed up a few feet. Her head tilted to one side in embarrassment. "I am so sorry to have wasted your time. Good luck with … well with your hunt for new dancers."

"Not so fast." His voice had dropped an octave. "You've pulled me out of an important meeting, so you really do owe me – time being money and all."

She took in a deep breath and flicked her gaze between the two men in the room. "Uh, you know what? My brother's waiting right out the front, I should get back out there to him before he gets worried."

Philip thumbed at his nose and looked across at his partner – the man who brought her into the room. "Charlie, how about you give Cassandra and I some time here to negotiate a deal of sorts."

The sleazebag, now identified as "Charlie", smirked and gave a nod to Philip. "Sure thing, Phil." And with that he was gone, leaving Princess and Phillip Morris together, alone, in the same room.

She took a long look at the man in front of her and couldn't help but notice that he really didn't look like a perverted serial rapist. He was tall, lanky, exuded confidence, but was simply too normal looking, even somewhat attractive to be a man so hungry for sex that he would just wander out and kill for it.

That was not to say she found herself in any way attracted to him, but she couldn't find anything about his look that could be considered a warning that he was a rampaging pervert.

"So?" He purred to interrupt her thoughts. "Are you going to show me what you have to offer?"

Her head jolted into a tilt angled enough so that she was looking sideways at him. "No. As I said earlier, this was a mistake and I do apologise for wasting your time." She turned on her heel and extended her arm to grab at the door handle.

Before she could turn the knob, a hand shot through the gap between the lowest curl of the bob in her wig, and her shoulder. She gasped deeply enough to inhale his words as he gruffly demanded: "Not so fast."

She spun and pressed her back into the wall, her feet slid and scraped along the ground as she tried to walk herself further and further back into the solid oak barrier between she and freedom. "I am not stripper material," she practically begged. "But I'm sure there are other girls out there already vying for a chance to audition for you."

He was oblivious to her pleading as he closed his eyes and inhaled a long breath of her soft scent. "Jasmine," he moaned. "How I love the scent of flowers in the evening."

Her head ticked to one side, but for the moment the rational and irrational sides of her warred as to what reaction she should make. "I'll be sure to tell your friend Charlie to have some brought in for you," she finally muttered as her hand twisted vainly at the doorknob. "But I really do need to get going."

He hummed something unreadable and licked at his lips. "Are you scared, Princess?"

She gasped.

He chuckled. "I never forget the scent of the women I take. I knew who you were the second you stepped into the room." His hand slid slowly across the door to take a firm grasp of her wig. "I'm not an idiot," he growled as he tugged the wig off her head. He panted as her black hair dropped free down to her shoulders, and each ended curl bounced as if in thanks. "Fuck you're beautiful."

She winced, but still made no move to escape. For some reason she couldn't possibly fathom she was scared – too scared to try to shift a muscle. She stared at him with wide and horrified eyes. "Mark and Jason know where I am. If you do anything to me they'll come for you."

He chuckled and stroked her hair. "They haven't yet, have they? Your Commander knows me, he knows all about me, but he can't do anything, can he?" He curled her hair around his finger. "I'm immune. I can do whatever the hell I want."

Her breath drew in haggardly and she squirmed in front of him. "Mark will kill you. I promise you."

"Why," he breathed in a high-pitched manner. "Because I was so good for you that you just don't enjoy fucking him any more?" His hand dropped down and impatiently began to unbuckle his belt. "Does the mighty Eagle feel inept because another man did his Swan like he never could? Here, let me show you again so you can teach him a thing or two."

Irrationality and vengeance teamed together to finally beat commonsense and the innocent Princess to a bloody death and rose inside her. It presented first as a long exhale that stretched the young woman's face into straight and steady expression. "You were nothing – are nothing – on Mark." Her hand dropped to his pants and grabbed a firm hold of his groin. As she felt the confirmation of his arousal, and as she heard his yelp of pain, she walked the two of them back away from the door. Her head tilted to the side as she eyed the pain etched into his face. "How does it feel, huh?" She tightened her grip. "How does it feel to have something shoved where you don't want it to go?"

He tried with both hands to remove her hold on him, but seemed unable to actually draw the strength to do so. "You crazy bitch … Guards!"

Her eyes briefly flicked to the door in preparation of a rampaging bouncer or two. None seemed to hear the choked and gagging voice of their boss. "Tsk tsk," she clicked, "Looks like you're on your own." She shifted her eyes back to him. "I'm not so easy to hold down when there's only one of you, am I?" She gave him a shove backward into the chair and actually smirked to see him double over in pain and clutch at his crotch.

"I'm FBI, Swan! I'll have your whole fucking team destroyed for this."

Her brow flicked as she watched his hand fumble on the side table for his cell-phone. She casually strolled over and snatched the phone off the table. She had to smile as she flipped it open to look through his contact list. "I think I'll take this back to our lab and have the experts trace each and every phone number here."

"Give that back, Bitch," he yelped as he lunged forward off the chair to try to rip it from her hand. She stumbled, then he stumbled, and they both crashed heavily to the ground – with him falling on top of her.

It was his turn to smile. He gripped hard at her wrists and wriggled himself in between her legs. "You want to play dirty, Princess? I'm happy to play right along."

Then everything kind of went dark.

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Princess had no idea, as her eyes blinked through cloudy vision, where she was, or why she felt so disjointed from the rest of her body. She felt cold, felt wet, and rubbed her arms as she staggered toward the door. Out of one eye she swore her world was tinted orange and found herself raising her hand to her head to check to see if her visor was damaged.

There was no visor. She looked down and wobbled when she realized that she wasn't even wearing an outfit that would transform into the Swan uniform.

"Where am I?" she mumbled in a drunken manner as her hand fumbled with a slippery-yet-sticky door handle. The sensation made her wearily look down at her hand. "Blood?" she asked herself tiredly as her hand turned to show her a bloody palm. "Gosh, am I hurt?"

Without really thinking, she wiped the palm of her hand along her skirt. She didn't bother to look at herself any more than the state of her hands, the fact she could feel streaks of wetted cold, and the telltale sliding of viscous fluid from these streaks, told her she was likely covered in blood.

Blood from where, she had no idea. She honestly hoped it wasn't hers, but the fact she felt so weak and couldn't even give a guess as to where she was and what she had been doing, made her think that much of the blood was probably hers.

"Mark," she moaned softly into her communicator as she finally fiddled with the door enough for it to open. "Mark, where are you? I need you to tell me where you are."

If there was an answer, she couldn't hear it. Music from the other side of the door thumped in though her ears and into her chest as she stepped into a room filled with strobing lights, cheers and yells, near naked women and a strong stench of flowing alcohol.

She gagged and coughed all at once, and covered her eyes with her forearm as she let out a long moan. "Mark? Jason? Anybody?" She didn't know if she was yelling or simply whispering their names as she staggered deeper into the club. All she knew was that her team were nowhere to be seen, and she was terrified out of her mind.

Her vision and mid began to swirl again, causing her to tilt her head backward as she continued to stagger. "Mark-k-k," she whined desperately, willing for him to come out of hiding, whistle, or do whatever to make sure she knew he was with her in this.

Her right foot tripped over her left and she found herself falling forward – right into the chest of the big-man on the G-Force squad. She looked up and actually sighed with relief. "Tiny, thank God…"

Tiny's eyes shot open wide as he took in the image of his blood-splattered teammate. "Jesus Christ, Princess!" He stooped and picked her up in a protective cradle-hold and boomed Jason's name across the club.

As Jason flicked his head to acknowledge the call, a shrill and bloodcurdling scream echoed through the club. All eyes turned in that direction to see a topless waitress standing at the doorway to the office. Her hands were clutched at her hair and she stood, stooped forward as if witnessing the most disgusting scene ahead of her. A bouncer immediately joined her, and drew his weapon. The colour draining from his face and sudden expression of imminent illness told both G-Forcers just what the scene held inside.

Tiny gasped. Jason pointed at an emergency exit. "Tiny, get her out of here!"

"What about you?" he called back even as he marched toward a door and kicked it open.

"I'm right behind you – Just get her the hell out of here!"


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, thanks to Freddo and Ilborgia for their reviews. I haven't had a review on something I've done in a long long long time so to get a couple was absolutely fantastic!! I Really _REALLY_ appreciate it!

I certainly hope what will follow isn't a disappointment.

Enjoy!!

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It was a long way back to Princess' house. Even though she was comfortable sprawled out on the back seat of Tiny's H2 vehicle, she couldn't help but hug herself and stay curled in a little ball.

She honestly didn't understand what had just happened, where she was, or what she was doing out on a work-night in some sleazy bar full of naked women. Surely she didn't simply agree to go out with Tiny and Jason to a peeler bar.

She whimpered softly as she tried hard to remember her night.

"It's okay, Princess," Tiny cooed from the front. "I'll have you home in no time."

The words filtered in through her haze, but she took little heed to them. Her memory was hazy and mottled between what she considered fantasy and reality. There were some recollections of a heated argument in her room with Mark. Then there was something else that seemed so much friendlier, like them recalling some of the more "adult" manoeuvres they'd used in combat. And then there was a kiss and her moaning out his name with passion.

Now _that_ had to be the fantastic part of her evening. There was no possible way that Mark had leaned in and kissed her on her bed, especially not with so much intensity. Her pleasurably calling out to him in the heat of the moment was just an absolute impossibility – Mark would never, _ever, _open himself up enough, or go against regulations, to do that to her. Was that yet another of her vivid daydreams coming in to play?

Her fingers rose shakily to her lip as she touched them in brilliant recollection of his mouth against hers. She swore she could actually taste his mouth and feel the sensation of his tongue stroking hers.

Then came an ache in her abdomen. She moaned out loudly as the ache swelled to a hot and massive cramp.

Tiny immediately dropped the brakes and brought his truck to an abrupt halt. Within a handful of short seconds, he had her door open and used a firm grip on her ankles to slide her along the seat and into his hold. "We're home, Princess. Just hang in there until I can get you checked out, okay?"

"Why home, Tiny?" she asked softly, genuinely confused as to why he wouldn't have just taken her back to Neptune if he were so worried about her. "Why not Centre Neptune and base med?"

He grunted as he gave a single upward jerk to secure her in a more manageable hold. "Jason called me about ten minutes ago and said that I wasn't to take you there, kiddo." He kicked the truck door shut and stalked to her doorway. "I don't know what's going on, but he's worried. I reckon he'll find Mark and he'll he along shortly."

She gulped an inhale and whimpered softly into his chest. "What happened, Tiny? Am I hurt?"

He sighed and grunted almost simultaneously as he tapped in a code on a touch pad to unlock the door and let him in. "I really don't know, Princess. I'm really hoping this mess you're covered in isn't yours."

"So much blood…"

"I know, Kiddo." He used his elbow to flick on the stairwell light and clumsily made his way up the stairs. He was slowed because of his need to make sure her knees or head didn't collide with either the wall of the railing. "But we need to get you cleaned up before Keyop of Mark see you. Both of them will flip out if they see you like this."

"Am I drunk?"

He leaned down and took a deep inhale through his nose. Whilst he could definitely smell the aroma of cigarette smoke, cigar, coffee, cologne and shampoo, there was a definite absence of alcohol. "I don't think so."

She caught sight of her bedroom door and was surprised to see that the light was on. This made her wriggle to get out of Tiny's hold. "I never leave the light on," she breathed softly, suspiciously.

He set her feet to the floor and took a half step in front of her as he pulled a sizeable gun from the back of his jean waistband. He stooped and held it low, but ready, as he slowly approached Princess' room. He half question-half ordered over his shoulder at her. "Stay behind me, okay?"

She didn't argue. She touched one hand to his shoulder and set the other one a couple of inches lower on his upper arm. She partially hid herself behind him as she peeked up over his shoulder. "Be careful."

As he approached Tiny could see her pink quilt lying in a heap on the floor beside her pillow. Closer examination revealed a destroyed retro flat-screen monitor lying on its side with its glass screen cracked.

"Ransacked," he breathed back to her. "Stand back, okay?"

She pressed her mouth to his arm and kept her eyes wide and curious over his shoulder. She nodded and breathed hum of yes, then searched herself for her weapon. It was found, stained red and sticky, in a pocket on her skirt. She actually took the time to question why, and gagged as the image of her firing it at a man in a suit, and it striking his nether region.

She had to shake her hand and drop it as though it was a hot coal. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she stared down at it in horror, only breaking her concentration when he heard the panicked bellow of her Commander's name in Tiny's voice.

She didn't give herself time to question it as she leapt and bolted into the room, ready to take on anyone.

She saw the image behind Tiny's panic and called out to her deity. Mark was in there, lying half on her bed with his feet dangling over the edge. His positioning suggested that he was there involuntarily, as he lay askew across the mattress with his head closer to the foot of the bed.

"Mark!" she gasped in horror as she flew past Tiny onto the bed beside her Commander. "God, tell me you're okay." She went into immediate first aid mode and checked every available option to confirm he was still with them. "Mark. Mark. Answer me," she begged as she lightly slapped each cheek in an attempt to rouse him.

He responded with a moan and sleepy indecipherable mutterings, then scratched his cheek and rolled on to his side.

Both Tiny and Princess tilted their heads in amazement before they shared a confused look at each other. It was Tiny who offered up the comment in both of their minds. "He's asleep? Asleep?" The corner of his eye twitched. "I've been trying to reach him for almost an hour, and he's been ignoring me to sleep?!"

Princess didn't really join in on, nor agree with Tiny's small rant of disgust at her Commander being asleep at 3 in the morning. She was far more confused about why he was asleep in her bed … on her bed … or whatever this position could be termed. She found herself looking off to one side as she tried the hardest she could to remember just what had happened.

Tiny, on the other hand, was still irritated. He stalked over to the bed and kicked first at the mattress, and then swept his leg across Mark's. "Hey," he boomed in a low and pissed-off voice. "Commander, wake up!"

Princess was thoroughly confused. If Mark was here, in her room … on her bed even … then why would she have gone out? There was no way at all she would knock back the opportunity to spend some alone time with Mark.

And her bedroom! She was far too anal-retentive to leave her bedroom in such a state of disarray. She wrenched her head sharply, to the point of pain in her neck, in desperation to force some form of recollection about what had happened.

The images of her arguing heavily with Mark, of her tazering him with her yo-yo, his affection as he tried to calm her, and finally her betrayal as he leaned down to kiss her only to have her drug him into sleep, flew into her mind. The impact was like a sledgehammer to her belly. She covered her mouth with her hand and clutched at her belly as her whole body buckled forward.

"Oh God," she whined. "I'm going to be sick."

She looked up at Tiny, moaned again, and then bolted toward the bathroom. She almost knocked over Jason in her rush to use the facilities, and stumbled sideways as she apologized with only a look. She made it to the toilet bowl just in time and retched painfully.

She heard Tiny's approach and circled her head with her arms over the bowl as he crouched beside her and rubbed at her back.

It was Jason's voice she heard, however, as he smoothly warned her of impending doom.

"This is a hell of a pile of shit you've gotten yourself into, Princess."

She coughed out the last tremors of vomiting and spoke into the bowl. Her voice echoed and breathed back up into her face. "Mark is going to be so mad at me, isn't he?"

"He's the least of your worries."

She sniffed and rolled her head to look at him. She settled her temple on her elbow and wiped at her nose with her finger. "How is he the least of my worries? I tazered and drugged him all because, what, I was upset about the FBI thing?"

Tiny was stunned by her admission but chose not to question why, what and huh? He continued, however, to rub at her back. "Mark'll forgive you for that, Princess. You know he will." He spared a glance up at Jason. "Jase, I don't think she really knows what happened."

Jason looked at her tired and confused eyes flicking between them and clicked in air through his mouth. "fuck …"

"Language," she chided softly.

Jason crouched beside her. "How much do you remember, Princess?"

"After drugging Mark? Nothing except finding the two of you in a bar."

"Do you know why you went there?"

Her face screwed up and she shook her head, ending the shake with her face back over the bowl nestled in her arms. "No."

"Damn," He muttered as he flicked off a dried piece of blood from her arm. "Well we're going to have to make up something for when the Feds come barrelling in here."

She pulled herself back off the toilet and sought comfort in Tiny's chest. His arm circled her gently. "What did I do, Jason?"

"Nothing, Princess," he answered softly as he heard the sound of a stirring Eagle in an adjacent room. "Nothing. Just get yourself cleaned up, okay?"

"What did I do?" she questioned again, this time with a more urgent, harsher tone of voice.

"You did nothing," he reaffirmed sharply. "I did it, okay? It's what I did."

"Liar," she muttered as she hauled herself to a stand and turned the shower taps on full-heat. As the steam rose like a hard, visible breeze, she presented herself to him. "Then why am I the one covered in blood?"

Her display of blood streaks and splatter was what greeted the G-Force Commander as he entered the room with the intention of using the washroom. All colour drained from his face at the sight of her. His shock froze him in place and all he was able to do was look between the three of them. "What happened?"

Princess' bottom lip slowly protruded at the sight of him, at the memory of what she had done to him, and at the confusion of not knowing what had happened over the past couple of hours. As her bottom lip jutted out her face screwed up painfully. She hiccupped once, then twice, and she threw herself at him.

"Mark I'm so sorry."

Her words came out as a long whine but couldn't finish before she erupted into tears and collapsed enough that she forced him to stumble in order to hold on to her. He looked to Jason and Tiny for explanation.

"What happened?"

Jason's voice was smooth in the face of Mark's worry and he took a deep breath to answer his commander with an apologetic, yet frustrated, expression. "You really don't want to know."

Mark knew by the way Princess was so heavily and limply hanging off him that whatever he apparently didn't want to know – he actually needed to know. "Is she okay?"

"Physically?" Jason hummed rhetorically. "Physically I think she's fine. I don't think any of that blood is actually hers. Her emotional state is as yet undetermined."

Tiny grunted. "Although I'm thinking that state is pretty obvious."

Mark struggled to keep Princess on her feet and held her tighter to him. "Cliff's notes version, please. What happened?"

Tiny shrugged and looked over to Jason for an answer while sharing all that he knew. "I showed up only a couple of minutes before the shit hit the fan, so all I can tell you is that Princess was a zombie walking the club, I picked her up and next thing you know there's a scream and Jason's telling me to get Princess the Hell out of Dodge." He looked back at Princess' bloodstained back and blew out a breath of air through tight lips. "I still don't know what happened back there, man,"

Mark looked across at Jason. "Talk to me."

Jason nodded to the running shower in an unspoken suggestion for Mark to take Princess in for a clean up. "Mason's dead," he muttered coolly.

Mark barely reacted to the information as he walked both he and Princess into the shower and under the steaming hot water. The fact they were both fully clothed didn't seem to dawn as he held her at a stand and wiped at her face with his hand to rid it of blood. "How?"

Jason shrugged and dropped the toilet lid to sit down. "I don't even know, Skipper. But I'm pretty sure we'll be enlightened to that little tidbit once the Feds come storming in."

Mark sighed hard, but found it difficult to find anger when he stared down into a terrified pair of red-rimmed green eyes. "Princess, what did you do?" he cooed softly, more a question to himself than to her.

"I don't remember," she whined inside a full-body shudder as she buried herself into his chest and clutched tightly onto his shirt. "I don't."

Her weight was becoming too much for him to continue to support, so he slid his back down the wall to seat them both on the floor of the shower underneath the water stream. "It's okay." He raised his head to his two teammates and looked helpless as he searched his mind for what to do.

Jason read the look and leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. "Look man, she'll be okay. I'll take the fall for this."

Mark shook his head as he felt Princess whimper herself to sleep. He could barely see with the spray above him wetting his face, but he didn't take a moment to wipe it free of droplets. "No, we'll sort this out as a team. Noone will take the fall for anyone or anything where this is concerned."

"I take it that means you have a plan," Tiny mused from his perch on the floor beside the sink.

Mark shook his head. "I have nothing. Unless you guys can fill me in on any details, then I'm flying blind here."

"You ask me," Jason muttered as he toyed with his pack of cigarettes and pulled a single cigarette in and out repeatedly. "That asshole got what he deserved."

Tiny had to shrug. "Obviously you two have more information than I do on this, but if Princess went in there and killed someone then yeah … damn straight … the asshole got what he had comin' to him."

Mark nodded and stroked at Princess' head. "She didn't do anything Jason and I didn't want to do, but shit … this is going to get ugly."

"You got that right,' Jason muttered as he finally gave up on the pack, scrunched it up, and tossed it on top of the waste bin. "My hope is that the Feds won't have enough to go on to even question us."

"Was she seen, Jase?"

He shook his head. "As Princess, Mark? Nah. When she came in and I saw her she was in a blonde wig. Once she got out of there, she was too covered in blood to be immediately recognizable."

Mark nodded as he recalled the way she was dressed before he succumbed to the drug. "Security cameras?"

Tiny answered that question. "There were seven in total. Five obvious and two hidden – I had the Phoenix do a full venue sweep after I got in there."

"She's airborne?" At Tiny's nod he smirked and continued. "Could you pinpoint the upload locations?"

He nodded. "The scanners on the Phoenix were triangulating the WiFi signals to locate where the main upload for the images were."

"And?"

He took a breath and shrugged. "I didn't get enough time to get an exact location, so I couldn't just have her blast out a magnetic field to wipe it." He thumbed his lip. "Hell, I'd have had three blocks of porn-watching teenagers and perverts all calling their IP asking what the problem was."

Jason shifted on the seat. "So, what? They have her on high def?"

Tiny smirked and shook his head. "Nah, I made sure my girl sent out some interference. If they got anything, it'll be no better than a convenience store security camera – nice and grainy."

Mark gave a thankful nod. "Good to know."

Jason nodded his head to indicate Princess. "How is she?"

Mark glanced down at the wet and soggy woman in his hold. "Asleep." He pointed up at the taps as if to ask Tiny to shut off the water. "She's a mess, guys. Is this all my fault, or what?"

Jason shrugged. "You might have sent her in there with enough information to have known otherwise, Mark, but you weren't the one who … did what did this to her."

"No, but I feel so damn guilty."

Tiny sat back on the floor after turning off the water. "We all do, Man."

Jason nodded in complete agreement. "Do you think she'll ever recover from this?"

Mark dipped his head to lean his cheek on her soggy hair. "With our support, yeah. "

"She hasn't been herself." Jason noted. "Hell, the woman I saw in the bar tonight didn't even resemble her."

"Tell me about it," Mark agreed with a wince.

A sleepy young G-Forcer yawned as he entered the bathroom and rubbed his eyes as he took note of his entire team in a meeting in the bathroom. "Gee. What'd I miss?"

Mark offered him a soggy smile then cleared his throat and got straight back to business.

"Now that we have the team together, let's think of how we're going to get us out of this mess."


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, I know the end of this chapter is pretty corny ... But dammit I used to love that whole group salute thing they used to do... :smile:

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Princess could feel breath on her face as she slowly roused from sleep. Yet to open her eyes in fear that the sunlight might permanently blind her, she tried to consider just who or what was responsible for rhythmically ghosting her face with short puffs of air. She smiled to herself as she allowed herself the miniscule moment to believe it was Mark, and that he had spent the night with her making sure she was safe and …

She groaned long as the memories of the previous evening began to flood back into her mind with stunning clarity.

Last night.

She opened her eyes with a cough and was rewarded with the unpleasant sight of the inner-workings of Keyop's nostrils.

"Oh, disgusting," she groaned without taking her head off the pillow as she palmed his forehead to wake him. "Keyop, go get a tissue or something."

The youngster slapped his mouth together, sniffed hard, and then threaded both of his hands under the pillow to curl into a tight ball. "Five more minutes, Princess."

She slid off the bed and hauled the quilt off him in a single, hard, tug to leave him laying in nothing but a pair of silky blue and yellow boxers, a "wife-beater" singlet shirt, and socks. "Not in my bed, buddy."

He whined, stretched his body and let out a long and loud stretching groan. "Rice Crispies and milk with chopped up bananas and strawberries, please. Just bring it upstairs with a glass of OJ and I'll eat it here in bed."

Her brow flicked as her hands settled onto her hips. "Oh, I don't think so."

Still stretched out, but less rigid, he smiled and opened his eyes to a slit in warning that he was going to say something smart. She halted whatever he could say by throwing the quilt back on top of him in a crumpled heap. "Next time you have a nightmare, you're going to find my door locked, and you'll be out there all alone with your ghosts and monsters."

He rolled underneath the quilt and poked his head out of the edge. He had the blanket covering his head like a hood and held it tight as if cold. "I didn't have a nightmare," he corrected. "Mark told me I had to stay with you."

Her brow flicked and her hands found their place on her hips once more. "He did not."

"Did to," he challenged. "You fell asleep in the shower and he was worried. Wanted me to sleep with you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he muttered as he brought his elbows in tightly to himself and kicked his legs to allow his feet to find blanket. "He and I had to put you in your nightie."

She reddened at the thought of the two of them fumbling to dress her, and darkened to a crimson at the though of just _how much_ the two of them saw of her.

Keyop snickered and slid like a little caterpillar off the mattress and on to the floor with a thud. "Don't worry. Mark made me cover my eyes." He pulled himself up off the floor and walked past her making kissing sounds. "Oh and by the way. Mark and Princess sitting in a tree … K.I.S.S.I.N.G."

She let out a high and embarrassed squeal. "Keyop!"

He poked out his tongue and bolted out of the room with a laugh. "Kissy-kissy!" he teased as he flew down the flight of stairs. He slid on the wooden flooring like he was riding a snow-board into the dining area. "I heard everything," he yelled as well as yelped as he slid into the man in question and practically bowled him over. "Mark, oops."

Mark chuckled over a carrot stick as Keyop backed up with his hands held in front of him. "Are you giving Princess a hard time already?"

"The instant he wakes up," she sighed as she padded lightly into the room behind Keyop and took hold of his ear to drag him to the counter. "Now, about breakfast."

Jason butted out a cigarette into an overflowing ashtray and held up his coffee mug. "A refill if you wouldn't mind, Wench."

She was quickly at his side with the coffee pot and growled dangerously into his ear as she topped up his mug. "Now I _know_ you didn't just call me Wench."

He winked and gave her a slap on the ass, to which she responded with a wide-eyed glare. "Mark, are you going to let him …"

"Jason," he breathed in amusement. "focus will you?"

He stretched and moaned much in the same manner Keyop had earlier, "I've been focussing for the past five hours, Skip. I think I need a break."

Mark shook his head. "Not until we find the answer."

Princess pursed her lips and peered over Mark's shoulder at a stack of papers in his hand. "What is the question, Commander?"

He angled his head sideways to look at her and set the papers on the table. "Princess, do you remember last night at all?"

She winced. "More than I prefer to." She tipped her shoulder to her ear at looked at him in pure innocence. "You're not mad at me are you?"

His breath momentarily hitched at the return of his Swan, but he cleared his throat and got straight back to business. "Not about what happened between you and I. What happened at the club, well …"

"Oh," she breathed softly. "The club."

He set his hand on her shoulder and shifted his head within her line of sight to catch her eyes in his. "Do you remember anything at all? Anything? Because we really need to know what we're about to come up against here."

She pulled a chair out from under the table and flopped down heavily into it. "I still don't know, Mark. I wish I could give you a full briefing on what happened, but I simply don't remember."

Jason leaned forward and patted her knee. "There's your argument right there, Mark. Innocent through mental defect."

She frowned at him. "I do not have a mental defect, thank you."

"You're in love with him," he smirked as he thumbed in Mark's direction. "I'd call that a defect of something."

She glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. "What, are you jealous?" She gave a bratty humph and looked down her chest. "And besides, I'm not the only person on the planet who finds Mark attractive."

Mark took a seat in front of her and effectively ignored the banter to take both her hand in his. "Tell me what you remember about last night."

"All of it?"

He nodded. "All of it."

She blew out a breath and took her gaze away from his. She swallowed hard as her eyes fell on the first page of what looked to be the legal agreement between the Federation and the FBI.

"I found out about the deal you and the Chief made with the FBI …"

"How?" Jason breathed from beside her, where he'd dragged his chair to immerse himself in the conversation.

She looked over at him. "I hacked in to the FBI server."

"Nice, girl."

She squeezed onto Mark's hands. "I was so mad, Mark. I was so mad at you. When I read the file and all of the updates and found out what you knew and what you sent me in to …"

"I understand," he said with apology. "And you and I will work through that I promise."

Her mouth was open as she shook her head to further explain. "But I didn't mean to take it out on you like I did. I mean, yes, I was mad. I was so mad. But not at you. … Well not really."

"Princess," he breathed. "That's okay. It's not important."

"But Mark," she argued softly. "I tazered you, I drugged you …"

"And I kissed you," he added. "And I held you while you cried. If I was pissed off and considered a weapon malfunction and tainted lip gloss to be our problem, then none of that would have happened."

"Did we make love?" she asked with her gaze locked on his.

"Did we _what_?"

"Did we make love?" she asked again. "Because I remember crying out for you and …"

Keyop interrupted her as he swallowed a mouthful of Rice Crispies cereal. "Yeh, you did."

Mark shook his head. "No we didn't. We haven't ever …"

"You did," Keyop corrected sharply as he tapped his finger on his ear. "I know. I heard everything."

Mark groaned at Jason elbowing him proudly. "We did not. She was only pretending to have sex with me to …"

"Pretend?" Jason choked. "Oh that excuse is lame." He scruffled Keyop's hair. "The kid's no genius, but I'm pretty sure he knows the sounds of whoopee in the evening."

"You know what," Mark demanded in irritation. "Let's just change the subject, okay. That is something private for Princess and I to talk about later." His head was shaking as he looked back to his Third. "When you left the apartment, what happened next?"

"I don't know."

"Try," he urged.

She huffed and stood up abruptly. "I just don't know. One second I'm looking back at you in my bed and the next I'm wandering around covered in blood in a damn strip joint." She paced in front of Jason and Mark. "I don't know how I got covered in blood, I don't know how I even got to the bar. Hell, until I heard Jason tell you that Philip Mason was dead, I … I …" she stomped her foot on the ground. "Dammit!"

Mark leaned an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. "Are we absolutely sure this guy is dead?"

Jason's skin almost took on a green hue as he nodded. "Jesus man. I wouldn't wish survival on anyone with those injuries, trust me."

"Maybe," Princess suggested softly as she quickly took her seat again and focused her attention on Jason. "If you told me what the end result was, it might jog my memory."

Jason looked into her face a moment, and then he tilted his head to Look at Mark over her shoulder. "Mark, man. I don't think that me recounting that image is necessarily a good thing for her state of mind."

Mark maintained his thoughtful position. With his chin cupped in his hand. It made his voice sound strained when he answered. "I agree."

"No. No," she urged softly. "I can handle it. I need to remember."

"Not happening," Jason said firmly before shifting his eyes back to Mark. "You know what, Skipper? It's better that she doesn't remember. Maybe when the Feds drag her into interrogation she'll benefit from not knowing."

"Feds?" She questioned fearfully before she shot a gaze at her Commander. "What about the Feds?"

Jason's voice was clipped when he answered her. "Princess, did you really think that the Feds would just ignore the fact you brutally murdered one of their…"

"Jason," Mark growled in warning. "No need to be like that."

"Yeah, well they aren't going to be gentle with her, Mark, perhaps we need to prep her a little before they get to her." His eyes slid to Princess' shocked expression. He felt immediate guilt. "Oh, Hell. Princess, I'm sorry."

She understood his irritation. "Are you sure they suspect me?"

"Considering Mark and I have been ignoring pages from Neptune all morning, and have unplugged your phone for the same reason – yeah, I'm pretty sure they're all ready to hang us."

"Oh dear," she replied quietly. "What have I done?"

"Nothing we didn't want to do," Jason muttered.

Mark leaned back heavily in his chair and slid his fingers into his pockets. "If and when they do corner us all, guys. Just remember, say nothing. No doubt the Chief is already looking for the best lawyer to help us out here, so we wait and keep our mouths shut until we get told otherwise, okay?"

They nodded.

"Promise me, you two. Noone is admitting to anything, okay?" His gaze fell on Jason. "I mean it, Jase. This is not the time I need you to play hero."

He shrugged.

Mark wasn't finished. "Until Princess can recall what happened, and we can determine whether or not Princess acted in defence when she killed him, then you are both mute." He flicked his stare between them. "Before you argue or think otherwise, that is an order."

"Big ten," Princess whispered. She opened her mouth to add something further, but only managed a shrill yelp as the front door exploded open and the room filled with a gun toting SWAT team.

Mark was the first out of his chair. He pulled Princess out of hers and into his chest as Jason grabbed his own weapon and stood in front of them. To his right both Keyop and Tiny took up position, chests and gazes locked in assault mode. "What is this?" He demanded.

"FBI. Search warrant," came the answer from a tall man wearing a black suit and long coat. He waved a folded blue piece of paper in the air as he walked and then used it to point at Princess. "We also want to bring in your Swan for questioning."

She gasped and covered her mouth in her hands. Mark's hold on her became more possessive. "For what reason?"

"She's under suspicion of murdering a Federal Agent."

Jason growled low. "Got proof?"

The FBI Agent looked down his rather sharp nose at Jason. "Let me take her to the Federal building and I'll let you know."

Mark took over the questions. "Is she under arrest?"

The Agent slid his gaze to the G-Force Commander. "She's under suspicion and is wanted for questioning."

"Then you can wait until we have a Federation Lawyer join the party."

"We can make it easier on her if she comes now."

Mark wasn't too sure, but the Agent's tone of voice wasn't exactly trustworthy or pleasant. Whatever "making it easy on her" implied, he didn't want to think about – But he wasn't going to let the FBI separate her from them just yet.

"I'll take her there myself," he suggested. "She does not go alone."

The Agent shook his head. "She comes with me now, or we will make sure that this…"

"Don't threaten me," Mark warned darkly.

Princess softly broke in to the conversation. "It's okay, Mark. I'll go." She turned in his hold and rolled up on her toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "I'll be okay."

Mark kept his eyes on the agent as he turned his face to place a reciprocal kiss on the side of her mouth. "Remember, Princess."

"I will," she whispered as she pulled away from him and walked around Jason. "Okay, so here I am," she said bravely; a tiny little woman in front of a man practically twice her size. "I'm eager to prove my innocence."

"We'll be right behind you, Princess," Mark called as she was taken by the arm and fairly dragged out of the room. As he heard the engine of an old Cadillac rev to life he gathered the remaining team members in a huddle.

He lowered his voice so as not to alert any of the officers executing the search warrant.

"Tiny, I need you to check the imaging feed from the Phoenix last night. If you had her ruin some pictures she'll have copies of it – I want them all."

"Big Ten," he answered sharply. "I'll have her infra-red feed disks downloaded to Neptune. The big girl had all scanners on that place, so she might have something we don't know about yet."

"Great," Mark purred before turning his attention to Keyop. "I need you to get into their servers again, Keyop. I want to know what they have on her so I know what we need to counter."

"They'll have our IP flagged, Mark. I get in, they'll know it."

"That's why I need you out in the field. Hijack a Café signal or use the iPhone WiFi. But get me anything."

"Got it."

His gaze slid to Jason. "Jase, you and I are going to the Federal building and are going to do some recon of our own. We need to be close to her."

"Damn straight, Mark."

"G-Force on three," Mark ordered as he thrust his fist into the centre of the huddle. "Noone, especially Princess, is going down because of this."

Three fists met with his in the middle with affirmative grunts from all owners. Mark counted to three and his men called off their team name.

"G- Force!"


	9. Chapter 9

Yeah yeah -- I'm not so good at interrogations, am I? I put it down to never having been in one, myself... Because I am a good girl.

Gosh, I've gotto get this thing finished ... One more chapter to go!! Yaaaaaaaay

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She'd seen it many times on television on documentaries and procedural dramas, but never in her life had Princess ever been in an interrogation. She'd never taken part in conducting one, nor had she ever been inside an interrogation room. It went without saying, then, that the G-Force Swan wasn't as calm and collected as she was trying to project when she was fairly forcibly dragged into a small room and told to "sit".

Her drive in the back seat of the old, black Cadillac had been in total silence on her part. Of course the FBI Agents had spent much of the drive trying to scare her into talking by regaling her with threats and promises of the vast amounts of evidence they had against her. However, as per her Commander's order, she was mute. She killed time by staring out of the tinted windows at the passing scenery wondering silently if this just might be the last opportunity she would have to be outside to enjoy it – well, as "outside" as the back seat of a vehicle was.

And so now here she was, seated on a cheap aluminium and vinyl chair, her legs delicately crossed at the knee, waiting for the inevitable game of "good cop, bad cop" from the pair seated across the table. Part of her cursed the fact she had not asked for a moment to change from her nightgown into her civilian G-Force uniform. She found it difficult to remain stoic and appear brave when she was wearing a pink frilly nightgown and matching robe. Of course the tactical part of her mind was pleased that she didn't; in this attire she screamed "innocent".

Innocent.

She didn't know that she believed she was. Many factors led her to believe she was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. It was hard to dispute the fact she was on the warpath, that she had deliberately drugged her Commander so that she could sneak off and do the deed. Add to that the fact she was later found staggering, covered in blood and incoherent in the face of extreme psychological duress in the same premises as the deceased, and yeah, sure, she was as guilty as Hell.

The more theoretical side of her argued that, however. She was a woman who loathed killing a man. Even in the midst of war and battle, to kill made her physically ill. Too many times had she sought solace in the arms and chest of Tiny after a particularly bloody fight. It made no sense to her that she would deliberately seek out and destroy a human life.

Even if all of the evidence pointed to exactly that.

She took a moment to glance up at the large mirror on the wall and wondered if her team were watching from the other side. She could hang on to her sanity if she knew they were there.

"So," a larger Agent than the one who had initially dragged her to the car asked to draw her attention from the mirror. "You know why you're here."

That wasn't a question, so there was no need to answer. She let her eyes slide slowly to his face and maintained an impassive stare.

He cleared his throat and tipped his head to the side to indicate his partner. "Agent Rice and myself need to ask you some questions regarding your whereabouts last night."

Her stare remained cool. "And you are?"

"Special Agent Don Lee," he barked quickly. "Now I've answered your question how about you answer mine?"

She blinked and took in a long sigh before letting her eyes fall back to the mirror. She said nothing.

Agent Lee tapped a pen on the table in annoyance. "You know. This would go a lot easier if you would just answer the question."

"Easier on whom," she replied absently, her eyes still on the mirror.

"Don't be smart," Agent Rice snarled. "Just because you're a part of G-Force doesn't mean you have immunity to go around and kill innocent people."

Her eyes slid to him. "No, only serial rapists and killers get that privilege."

Both agents looked at each other and then focused back on Princess. Rice was the one to respond. "The victim is not the one on trial here."

"Neither am I," she suggested softly as she absently played with the hem of her nightie. "I'm just here for questioning, aren't I?"

"Then maybe you should answer one."

She let her eyes rise, but kept her head low. "Not without my lawyer or Commander present."

Rice sniffed hard as his mouth broke out into a smile. "You're a big girl, Princess. You can speak for yourself."

She humphed a short laugh in response.

Lee rolled his eyes with a groan as he slowly came to realize that this young woman wasn't about to play to their rules. He let out a long breath and opened a manila folder of photographs. He laid three side by side in front of her and pointed at the first two. "Isn't that you?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head to scrutinize the photos. The images were grainy, black and white. In the first it was she, being led inside by a short man. The second was she toying with Jason. Her brow creased at the recognition of the G-Force second.

If this image was taken before the attack, was he part of the plan?

Rice interrupted her thoughts by pushing them yet closer. "So. We know that the gentleman in the second image is your Condor, which means the girl is you."

Her head shook lightly. "I'm not blonde."

"It's a wig."

Her eyes rose. "Which you can determine from this image?"

"No, from this one." His finger tapped on the third, which was a photograph of she walking through the club, sans wig, looking lost. The images were so full of distortion that she was unable to honestly say it was she, although she was certain it was.

"I am unable to accurately determine gender, let alone whether it is me or not," she sighed softly. "I would expect the images to be a little clearer."

Lee responded to that. "There was interference of some kind that distorted out surveillance equipment."

She noted the disdain in his tone. "You say that as if it is my fault."

"Was it?" he asked accusingly. "Did you and your team conspire to do this?"

She blinked slowly; insulted that he would accuse the team of this. "I won't dignify that question with an answer."

Rice gave a one-sided smirk. "Well we are waiting for radar and satellite images for confirmation of your warship's location last evening."

Lee slapped his palms on the table. "Look. Enough of your little game of roundabout answers. We know that you have been dodging treatment by your federation medical and psychological units regarding your abduction. We know you have accused our agent of raping and torturing you. We know you were upset that your Commander had to abide by our agreement and let Mason go. We also have proof here," he tapped the photographs, "of you being at the club last night with the Condor and Owl."

"You can't prove that's me," she countered softly as she settled her hands on her knees. "All you have are grainy images of what you assume to be me."

"I know it's you," he hissed in response. "You were on a personal vendetta against our Agent. You think he deserved some retribution for what you think he did to you during…"

"What I _think_ he did?" She retorted hotly, her quiet demeanour suddenly disappearing. "What I _think_?"

"Well," Rice continued with a smirk, glad to have finally sparked a response from her. "He wasn't convicted of raping you, so…"

"He wasn't convicted because you wouldn't let it happen," she growled. "You felt it within your power to deny every girl he raped justice by making your perverted little deal. You gave him Federal protection, a salary, his own nightclub and freedom, for what? So he can fail as miserably as Zoltar does."

"That made you mad, didn't it?" He said with a smirk as he shared a glance with Lee. "Really mad."

"Yes," she snapped angrily. "Damn straight it makes me mad. He raped thirty-three women, thirty-four including myself. And he gets off scott-free for it?"

"So you wanted to seek justice for you and those other girls?"

"I deserve justice, and those girls deserve justice," she growled. "Tell me. If it was your sister, your daughter, your mother or your wife – would you be content with this arrangement?"

"So you went out to seek justice for them. As the defender and role model of women all over the galaxy it is only right that …"

His words halted as the door to the interrogation room slammed open and struck the wall loud enough to startle all present. In the doorway stood the Eagle and Condor, in full battle glory. Mark stood at the front of the pair, with Jason half a foot back and standing to his right.

"I think that's enough," Mark boomed low, his irritation at the treatment of his third obvious. "The Swan has specifically requested presence of her Commanding officer and lawyer. By law you are to cease and desist all questioning until that request has been granted."

Lee let out a low moan and waved his hand in the air. "And here you are. Request obviously granted."

Mark looked down at Princess. "You okay?"

She nodded as she gulped a mouthful of air. "Yes, Commander."

Mark waved behind him to invite Jason into the room and took up position next to Princess. Instead of taking a respectful seat, however, he merely pressed his fists into the tabletop and leaned into a heavy hunch. "So now that Princess has some form of representation, you may continue. I do warn you, however, I will not tolerate any low-handed methods of questioning. You stick to the questions, and only the questions." He took a second to spread a look between the agents before continuing. "If you attack her, so help me I'll attack you in return."

Rice seemed a little less intimidated by the Eagle, so he chose to respond. "Is that a threat, Commander?"

"Yes," he answered simply. "It is."

"You'll be best served if you don't make threats."

Mark offered a sarcastic smile. "Just go ahead with your questions. Play nice. And I won't have to act on it." His eyes swept to his side as he heard Jason drag a chair across the floor and slump himself on it with his chest pressed against the backrest. He set his elbows on the lip of the backrest and dropped his chin in the space between both forearms. If his intention had been to intimidate with a glare, it seemed to work, as both men seemed to shuffle uneasily in his line of sight.

Lee finally took his attention off the scowl and let his hand shakily grab at his pen. "So. Princess. To begin. Where were you last night?"

She looked up at Mark for permission to answer. He gave a short nod and she looked back at her interrogators. "I was at home."

"All night?"

"Yes," Mark answered for her. "She was home all night."

Lee looked with irritation up at the hulking Eagle, but turned his focus back to Princess. "Can you have someone verify that?"

"As in an alibi?" She asked softly.

"Yes," he replied with a hint of frustration. "Can anybody confirm that you were home all evening."

"I can," Mark interrupted firmly. "She was with me all evening."

Princess' eyes flashed wide at his lie. She let her lashes close over her eyes a moment as she looked back at the agents and cleared her throat to agree.

Rice didn't buy it. "The two of you were together?"

"Yes," Mark said simply.

"Doing what?"

"I really don't think _what_ we were doing is any of your business. Just know that she and I were together all evening."

Rice tapped his pen on the table and cast a suspicious glance at the Eagle. While Mark's expression was straight and confident, the Swan was obviously finding trouble with his answer. He opted to press further. "Convenient that you and she were together, Commander. Can this be verified by anyone else?"

"Convenient." Mark grunted. "Hardly. I was with Princess to keep her company and ensure she was okay. What your agent put her through in the name of Spectra was …"

"Was your third unstable, Commander?"

Mark's head tilted to the side. "Unstable, no. Upset, yes."

"Upset enough to kill a man, Commander?"

Mark pursed his lips and shook his head. "Princess isn't like that."

"Speaking of Princess," Lee muttered, "how about you let her answer some questions."

Princess set her hand atop of Mark's and nodded. "I'll be okay."

"So you were supposedly with your Commander all evening. Can anyone verify that the two of you were together?"

She pressed her lips together and gave a slow nod. "Yes. My youngest brother can verify that Mark and I were together."

"Can he verify _what_ you were doing together?"

"Yes, he can," Mark snapped tightly. "Because it seems so desperately important to you what activities Princess and I were engaged in last night, I'll tell you. We made love; something that can be confirmed by Keyop, although I hardly recommend that you make him admit it."

Princess immediately reddened. Rice seized the opportunity. "So you and your third are lovers?"

Jason smirked and swallowed his own response to let Mark answer. "Since last evening, yes we are."

"Isn't that against regulation?"

Mark let his head flick to one side as if to shrug. "It is something I need to sit down with the project heads to discuss; but that is hardly relevant to this discussion."

"Oh," Lee muttered inside a laugh. "I think it is, completely. If you are willing to so blatantly ignore the regulations of your own agency, then who is to say you aren't willing to go against ours and lie about Princess' activities for last evening?"

"Because that would be breaking the law," he breathed in response. "Breaking an archaic rule is a little different to breaking the law. Sleeping with my third will only result in minor disciplinary action, to perjure myself will result in jail-time."

"I am glad you understand that rule, Commander. Believe me we will explore that avenue should you be found to be lying and impeding this investigation."

"I hope that you would."

Jason snorted to Mark's right. "Or maybe you can offer him immunity for defecting to Spectra."

Mark threw a glare at Jason, but said nothing to him in reprimand. He took note of the photographs on the table and drew them toward him using a finger. "Are these your proof that Princess was involved?"

Jason's neck craned to see the images, while Mark's eyes narrowed in attempted focus. He scrutinized them for a moment before finally flicking them much like a Frisbee back at the agents. "You'll need something more substantial if you feel like hanging one of my team."

Rice stooped to pick up the picture from the floor. "We have our photograph experts currently working on enhancing the images. Once we have a clearer image I will be sure to frame a copy for you."

Mark's lips pursed. If not didn't know him better they'd have assumed it was in amusement. To Princess and Jason, however, they knew it was slightly victorious. "Manipulate away gentlemen," he mused. "All doctored images will be inadmissible in a court of law, and then even if you do make it past the judge, our lawyers will tear them apart and make them useless in the eyes of a jury."

Both agents offered him surprised, but annoyed glares. It was Rice who opted to comment. "This doesn't add up to a G-Force victory, Commander. There are still a myriad of evidence options we have to follow up with. As we speak the CSU teams are collecting every solitary drop of blood, hair, fibres and anything else they deem to be of interest."

Mark pushed his fists off the table to lever himself to a stand and held his hand down to Princess. "Then if that's all, we'll be leaving."

Lee raised his hand to ask for a moment. "Not so fast, Commander. There is still the matter of the Condor and Owl's presence in the club."

Jason had settled his chin back onto his forearms. This gave his voice a more gravely sound than usual when he took over and answered. "That's easy, to look at naked chicks."

Princess gasped. "Jason!"

He looked over at her and shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Princess; that I was there to save their moral souls and preach the good word to them?"

"You really don't have to be that blunt."

Mark cleared his throat in a long-suffering manner. "Both of you can it." He offered an apologetic expression to the two agents. "For the record, Princess was with me all evening, while my two teammates were enjoying the naked arts. Is there anything else?"

Rice grunted from his position. "I would recommend that you and your team treat this incident with far more respect and seriousness than are currently displaying. One of my agents is dead, murdered at the hands of one of yours…"

Anderson's voice slid in from the open doorway. "Actually, gentlemen. Philip Mason was, at the time of his murder, not a Federal Agent."

Five sets of eyes blinked in Anderson's direction as he walked into the room carrying a stack of papers loaded with little tiny Post-it tags in varying colours. He took a seat, uninvited, beside Princess and set the papers on the table before petting Princess' hand in a purely parental manner. "How are you holding up, Princess?"

Before she had a chance to respond, Lee grunted and pushed his hands against the table to aggressively slide his chair out from underneath. "Did we send out invitations or something for this event?" He rose slowly from his seat and approached the doorway. He made a show of checking the hallway before he slammed it shut. "Do I expect anyone else from The Federation to barge in here unannounced and uninvited?"

Anderson's look was one of complete innocence. His tone and expression fell to matter of fact as he started to flick through the tabs to seek out the one he wanted. "When you take one of my team in for questioning on charges that are absolutely ludicrous, then expect more than just one person to come to her defence. For the record, gentlemen, Princess is the least likely to engage in such a revolting manner and we will do everything in our power to prove that to you."

"Oh how very chivalrous," Lee droned. "Dedicated. Inseparable. Invincible, indeed."

Anderson seemed mildly unimpressed, but pressed on with his own explanation. He found the chapter required and showed the highlighted section to the two agents. "If you will note Chapter 4, section 76, paragraph 3 of the agreement between the Federation of Friendly Planets and the Federal Bureau of Investigation:

_This agreement, once executed by the Federation President Patrick Kane and Federal Investigative Bureau President Elijah Matthews, will be, as requested and reviewed by G-Force Commander Mark (no last name), considered null and void, should it come to light that Mr. Philip Mason has engaged in any activities thought of by the North American Judicial System to be unlawful. Such behaviour includes, but is not limited to, misdemeanours, felony, fraud, sexual and violent crimes. Activities not included in these considerations are limited only to those that pertain directly to Mr. Mason's role within any Spectran offensive, however if activities exceed known Spectran protocols, the incumbent will be held accountable to any and all military courts involved in the detainment of Mr. Mason."_

As you can see, gentlemen, even if my swan was guilty of murdering this Mr. Mason, the investigation is out of your jurisdiction."

Rice coughed and attempted to read the highlighted paragraph and make sense of it. "In Lay terms, Mr. Anderson?"

"Doctor," Anderson corrected sharply before explaining. "The paragraph states, quite clearly if you read it, that if Mr. Mason commits any crimes that are not typical for Spectran armies, then our deal, and Mr. Mason's immunity deal, is null and void."

"Again," Rice muttered dryly. "What are you trying to say?"

Anderson let out a long huff of annoyance. "It means that the second he laid a hand on my Swan he violated his own agreement. As it was during captivity the crime would be considered military and Mr. Mason becomes our problem."

Lee held the paper in his hand and pretended to analyze it when he decided to speak. His gaze was not on any other individual in the room, but on the text that seemed to be swimming before his eyes. "Can you state beyond any reasonable doubt that Mr. Mason was not acting on orders from Zoltar; and that his actions were not typical?"

"I can," Anderson answered firmly. "This is not the first time that Princess, or any of the team for that matter, have been held as prisoners of Spectra. At no time has any member of G-Force been subjected to such cruel and unusual forms of torture."

"Perhaps the rules have changed, Dr. Anderson."

"Be that as it may, his actions were not typical. Therefore we must assume that Mason acted outside of orders from Zoltar to inflict unnecessary treatment upon the Swan."

Rice let out a breath that sounded much like a moan of defeat. "That does not justify what your Swan did, though, Dr. Anderson. Princess must be held accountable for her actions."

"Which will still need to be proven," Anderson continued. "As yet you have been unable to prove her alibi of an evening with her commander to be false." His gaze shot hotly to Mark, who actually seemed to redden somewhat under his gaze. "Regardless of what your "evidence" suggests, I am more apt to trust my Commander than I am a handful of grainy photographs. Quite simply he does not have a reputation for being deceitful."

"I would say that violating the regulations of the Federation might suggest otherwise, Doctor."

Anderson gave a short smile. "That was a regulation amended quite some time ago, gentlemen. My commander has been free to see his second, third, fourth or fifth if he is so inclined." He gathered his papers and used the grip on them to press his hands into the table to push himself to a stand. "Now, I will meet with your superiors and see to it that this investigation is turned over to the Federation from herein."

Lee raised his hand. "Oh I don't think so. I will not let you give _her_ a get out of jail card because of a legal loophole. She broke the law and murdered an innocent civilian. Agent or not at the time, he deserves justice."

Anderson flicked his hand to his team and led them to the door. "I think he has already received his justice, don't you?"


	10. Chapter 10

Done.  done.   Done!

Big snuggly thanks to Nephedra and Freddo for your gorgeous reviews - No I am not a legal writer or with the police or anything fun like that (I wish I was).  I am but a lowly Receptionist with a big imagination...  :giggle:

Well this is it.  all done and finished!  Thanks for joining me on the ride!

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It was definitely a quiet trio that waited just outside of the front entrance to the FBI headquarters. Two of the three, Princess and Jason, leaned their backs against the wall in lazy slouches, while Mark stood ahead of, but facing them with his fingers threaded into his belt and head down.

The only personality that truly seemed to show in the body language of the three G-Forcers was through Princess. Still dressed in her nightwear, she leaned lightly with her legs crossed at the ankle. Her hands were clasped together and hung straight down her middle.  Her eyes were focussed on her hands and gave an occasional flutter. It was obvious she was in deep thought.

"How much longer?" Jason finally asked with an exaggerated check of his watch. He shuddered in the cool February morning wind. "Princess has to be borderline hypothermic right now."

"I'm okay," she whispered.

Mark's eyes rose, but his head did not. "It'll take as long as it takes, Jason. The Chief has some fast talking to do if he expects the FBI to hand off this investigation to us."

Jason shrugged. "Hey, an agreement is an agreement, Skipper. If they said it and signed it then they can't argue."

"Unless there is a conflict of interest clause."

Jason slouched back heavier on the wall and cross his arms tightly against himself. "Which means?"

Princess softly answered the question. "Because I'm under suspicion of murdering Mr. Mason, then we are considered too close to the case to be in control of it. This investigation will become more an effort of proving me innocent than proving what really happened." She took a breath and looked up at him. "Make sense?"

"Oh. Crap."

Mark grunted. "Anderson's a loop hole king. He'll find a way out of it."

Princess hugged herself and let her head roll along the brick enough that she was in position to kiss her own shoulder. "Guys, I'm so sorry about all of this." Her words were met with silence, which caused her to have to clench her eyes shut to stave off tears. "I really messed it up, didn't I?"

"Princess," Mark began in a manner to suggest he was about to go off on a long-winded lecture. His extension of the "s" in her name indicated he was actually really thinking hard about what needed to be said. Finally he let out his breath and put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't apologise until we know what really happened in there. For all we know, you could have tried to save him from Zoltar or … something." He ended his sentence with a shrug. It was clear by his expression that he was trying to be helpful.

Jason scratched at the underneath of his nose with his top lip. "Yeah, Mark's right. I know I'm still trying to wrap my head around you doing something like that." At her wide-eyed stare he loosened the cross of his arms and slowly threaded one arm across her shoulder. He pulled her against him with a sharp tug. "C'mon, Prin. We know you well enough to know that no matter how fucked up your mind was you still wouldn't have done … that."

"Language," she chided in a muffle as her head nestled into his shoulder. Her words were still quietly distorted through t-shirt as she continued to try and prod Jason for more information. "Tell me, though, how did he die?"

"Not telling."

"I'll find out you know."

"But not from me." He looked up at Mark, who had switched his stance to look upon his two teammates. He read the question in Mark's eyes and answered very shortly. "Exsanguination – but that's all you'll get on it from me."

"That much I think I worked out," Mark muttered to himself.

"Get the M.E.'s report. That'll outline the whole bloody mess for you."

Princess seemed to perk up a little at that. "Perhaps we can have them cast the wounds and determine the actual murder weapon." She pulled herself excitedly back from Jason. "My yo-yo's blade is pretty specific. If we can prove that my yo-yo wasn't the murder weapon."

"Noone is investigating anything," Anderson's voice shot in from the door. "As of this moment the criminal investigation is under the control of NCIS. You three are to stay as far away from the forensic teams as possible."

Mark flicked a brow. "You couldn't get control?"

Anderson's gaze flicked to Mark as he walked past toward the waiting G2 vehicle. "Obviously not." He turned to ensure the team were following him and actually offered the barest hint of a smile. "But it's out of the FBI's hands and is as close to our teams as is possible. The NCIS teams will willingly work alongside ours."

Mark opened the passenger side door for Anderson. "So honestly. What do you think?"

Anderson thrust his briefcase flat against Mark's chest as if to order him to hold it and climbed into the car. "What I think is that the G-Force unit needs some reminders about how we do things at the Federation. I don't like to be blindsided, team, which is exactly what you did to me here."

Jason rolled his eyes as he took the driver's seat. Princess hung her head guiltily in the back beside Mark.  There was no hint of a potential argument from the young Commander, even as he took Princess' hand in his. "I apologise for that, Chief."

Anderson turned in his seat to glance across at Princess. Her eyes were locked on where she and Mark were joined, and it was clear she was listening.

"Princess," he breathed in a much softer tone that he figured he was capable of. "Of everyone on the team, you are the one I would least expect to pull this kind of thing."

"I know. I really wish I had an explanation for you, Chief, but I don't."

He kept his eyes on her. "You understand that this will require a complete psychological analysis when we get to Neptune, don't you." At her nod he let his eyes fall on Mark. "Commander, you played a dangerous game in there. I don't appreciate your lie and having to make one of my own to cover yours."

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

"Ten minutes watching the interrogation in the observation room," he answered firmly. "I've known you since you were a child … I know when you're lying no matter how stoic you think you are."

Jason let out a snort. "Walking lie-detector."

"Indeed."

Silence ensued for about five minutes, where the only sound was the quietened beat of a Led Zeppelin song on the car stereo. It wasn't until Jason began to puff of the beat on his breath that Anderson chose to break the silence.

"Princess?"

She looked up. "Yes, Sir?"

"Now that your attacker is dead and vengeance is done, how do you feel?"

Her eyes were wide at the question, yet rather than answer immediately she let herself think over the question along a couple of long breaths. "Honestly?"

"Preferably."

Her hand tightened on Mark's and she felt him lean in closer to her. It gave her the courage to answer with honesty. "I feel pretty awful."

"Why?"

The reasons why she felt were obvious, but she had a feeling there was a moral in his question. "Aside from the fact a man is dead, my team are facing serious ramifications to my actions and I could likely end up serving the rest of my life in jail … " she allowed a mouthful of air to fill her lungs and held on to it for a moment. "I know he'll never understand, know, or truly pay for what he did. I let my team down, I let you down."

Mark tried to be sympathetic. "You didn't let us down, Prin."

"Commander," Anderson warned firmly. "She needs to work herself through this."

He nodded. "Sorry."

Anderson rolled his head to erase the kink in his neck from looking over his shoulder at Princess. "So would you say it was worth it?"

Princess immediately shook her head. "Oh no. No."

"I don't need to explain to you my thoughts on revenge, team," he lectured as he shared glances with each person present in the vehicle.

Jason let out a huff. "Yeah. Revenge is bad, blah blah."

Anderson shook his head. "No, Jason. I believe wholeheartedly in Revenge." He felt the simultaneous blinks of three confused teens and opted to elaborate. "The act of vengeance, as practiced throughout the ages is abhorrent to me. The whole "Eye for an eye – tooth for tooth" mindset belongs only in books. The act itself is unsatisfying and oftentimes just causes further aggravation and heartache." He swept his hand in the air between them. "As it has done in this case."

He shifted in the seat and untwisted the shoulder strap of his seatbelt. "Revenge. True revenge, is the act of making someone _know_ and _feel_ that his or her actions and efforts are fruitless; that what they did to you means nothing and is nothing."

Princess blinked slowly. "I don't understand."

"Tell me, Princess. Tell me, based on your profiling training, what the goal of a rapist is." His eyes flicked to Jason in warning not to interrupt. "Besides what you think is obvious, of course."

Her fingers wriggled against Mark's in concentration, but she didn't take her eyes off Anderson. "If I were to come up with a central theme I would suggest control, Chief. To inflict as much emotional and physical pain as possible." She thought for a second, knowing that she had to find something of meaning in his question. "Maybe it is to reassure themselves they are desirable, or to confirm their own misplaced sense of masculinity. It's domination and humiliation and ensures that they will never be forgotten in the eyes of their victims. They and those they love will be affected for the rest of their lives." Her lips pursed. "Sex is the method, not the purpose." As if coming to a realization, she looked absently at a spot on the back of Jason's chair. She continued expressing her thoughts. "His purpose was to affect not only me, but also the team. If I was damaged, my team is damaged. Spectra would be victorious and he free as a bird to continue to … " She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh!"

Anderson nodded. "If you wanted real revenge, Princess, then that would have been best served with Philip Mason in the interrogation observation room instead of me. To see you all banding together, undefeated and strong, protecting each other with complete disregard for anything else – that would have been the ultimate revenge."

Mark let out a breath and angled his head down and to the side in quiet realization. "His purpose was to break us apart …"

"…but he only brought us closer together," Princess finished. She let her eyes slide up to meet Mark's and she gave him a smile as he brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers.

Anderson nodded. "As a team you came together more flawlessly than I've ever seen you. If it weren't for the fact I have a mountain to dig you out of I'd be proud of you all."

Jason cursed under his breath and shook his head. It may have appeared that his mind argued with the words of the G-Force project head, but he honestly couldn't have agreed more.

"But," Anderson warned as Jason parked the car in the spot on the compound designated for President Kane. "If I ever have to come up against a situation like this, where I have to bail your sorry asses out of trouble because you acted impulsively and stupidly, I will hang you all myself."

Jason snorted in amusement. Mark did the same. Princess however remained absolutely silent in contemplation.

As she reanalyzed the poster in the debriefing room and applied its words to Anderson's theory, she realized the reason he had it there. Sure, she had to look hard to find it, but it was there. Revenge was so much more than a simple physical retribution. Revenge was more than a simple dictionary definition.

Revenge was a motivation.

Revenge was a strength.

Revenge … was hers.


End file.
